Beautiful Stranger
by simplymondler
Summary: A stranger comes into Monica's life just when she needs him to. Mondler major AU.
1. Chapter 1

Beautiful Stranger

A/N- Ok, I confess this is a bit of a weird one. I don't even know how to categorize it other than it's a major major AU. It's not a proper 'completely set in a different setting' type of AU in the sense that for everyone but Chandler their lives up until now is as cannon. Chandler however, wasn't ever part of their lives…he and his background are completely AU.

It's set season 4 (even AU I apparently have a comfort zone, go figure) when Monica has just started at Alessandro's.

Confused? Me too. It's random but once I got the idea I just had to roll with it and it pretty much just wrote itself. It's 6 chapters which are all written but will probably need a good rewrite before actually posting...

* * *

She could feel their eyes on her. Hear their sniggers.

Why did they hate her so much?

"I'm, um," she tried to keep the tears from entering her voice, aware of them smirking at her. "I'm just going to, uh, take my break now."

"Don't bother coming back," she heard one of them shout after her as the rest of the Alessandro's staff laughed.

Hanging her head she quickly left the kitchen, annoyed at the tears that had started to fall. She tried her best, she really did. She'd worked so hard to get this job and Lord knows she'd paid her dues at that damn diner. But what was the point of having your dream job if everyone was determined to turn it into such a nightmare? They deliberately set out to make her life hell and were so spiteful towards her. At least the diner people were friendly.

But she'd only been here 2 weeks.

She wasn't a quitter, she was a Geller.

Wiping at the stubborn tears, she paused at the entrance to the small back room that was for the staff to take their breaks. She didn't want to go in there. It was her break and she didn't want to have her food sneezed on, or water 'accidently' spilt over her book or something poured down her back... again.

Instead Monica headed for the doors to the fire escape, finding them already slightly open. She pushed her way through, closing her eyes as the cold air hit her face, chilling the fallen tears. She took a deep breath of fresh air, letting it out slowly. At least out here by the dumpsters she wouldn't get picked on or teased. She could have 10 minutes to rebuild herself and strengthen her walls before she went back in there and tried to look like their behavior wasn't getting to her.

That they weren't wearing her down.

That they weren't winning.

Suddenly feeling as if she was being watched her eyes snapped open and landed on a sandy-haired man that sat silently on the other end of the step. A small notebook was balancing on one of his knees, a pen poised in the air mid-stroke, whilst in the other was a lit cigarette. His blue eyes were on her, watching her curiously.

His crisp white shirt stood out against the darkening sky and he was wearing some smart black pants; he was one of the waiters here. Monica thought she recognized him, not that she'd spoken to him much. He hadn't caused her much grief but she wouldn't be surprised if he hated her anyway.

Everyone here seemed to.

"S-sorry," she stuttered, furiously wiping at her face and praying he wouldn't notice or at the very least wouldn't tell the others; they had enough ammunition without this. "I didn't realize someone was out here. I'll just go-"

"It's ok," his voice was soft, gentle even, a stark contrast to the harsh sarcastic tones of her laughing colleagues just moments earlier. "The step's big enough for two."

He raised the cigarette to his mouth, inhaling deeply then blowing it out in a lazy puff of smoke. His eyes stayed on her for another beat before turning his attention back to his notepad. She watched him scribble a few things down as she debated what to do. She didn't want to go back in there yet, not like this, but she had wanted to be alone.

Her brow furrowed as a thought came to her. Was this a ploy to lure her into a false sense of security? Was another cruel prank waiting for her? Had they smeared the step with something unpleasant which she couldn't quite see in the shadows? Or were they planning to ambush her from behind and throw her into one of the dumpsters. She shivered at the thought.

As if feeling her gaze the man's pen paused its writing and he glanced up, an eyebrow raised, "Ya know you don't need a parking permit to sit here. It's free of charge."

He seemed genuine. God she hated how this place played on her mind. With a small appreciative nod she settled onto the other end of the step, her arms wrapping around her knees, hugging them close to her as she stared across the small concrete parking lot. They stayed silent for a while until in the corner of her eye she noticed him turn his face just a fraction towards her.

Her stomach started to tense, waiting for the snide remark.

Nothing came.

He continued to discreetly study her.

"What?" she finally asked.

"Nothing," he said quickly, uncomfortably looking back down to the paper in his lap. Seconds later his eyes were back on her and she didn't like the scrutiny. She didn't like being around people when she was upset. It was a sign of weakness that she didn't like to show. Especially not here.

"What?" she asked again, frustration entering her voice and he jumped a little, a faint flush coming to his cheeks.

"It's just…" he trailed off as he struggled to find the right words, "just don't let them get to you. They're idiots."

She swallowed hard, surprised at his words. She waited for the punchline but none came. He seemed actually genuine. There may be one person here that didn't hate her. She felt the constant weight she carried around on her shoulders ease ever-so-slightly.

"T-thanks," she tried to smile a little, "I try not to but it's not always that easy," she admitted looking down at her shoes.

"Your review was bang on; Chef Emillio sucked. He was an awful cook, he was lazy and the place was badly run," he informed her, stubbing out his smoke. "From what I've seen you're a brilliant chef and deserve to be here. They're the ones with the problem, not you."

With that conclusion he stood up, folding the notepad closed and stuffing it into his back pocket.

"Thank you," she swallowed, trying to stop the new tears suddenly pressing against her eyes. What was wrong with her? What was it about this place that put her on such an emotional edge? Just because one guy showed a little compassion she was gonna cry?

He just nodded, studying her for a long moment before disappearing back through the fire escape.

Monica hugged her knees closer to her as she let a little smile spread its way across her face. Closing her eyes again she allowed herself to enjoy the crisp evening air, listening to chaotic sounds of New York around her as she replayed the guy's words.

She did deserve to be here.

* * *

The next evening around the same time, Monica headed for her little piece of sanctuary in this hellhole. Seeing the door was already slightly ajar she wasn't surprised to see the man out there again. He was in the same spot smoking, furiously writing something down.

"Hey," she greeted somewhat hesitantly, "is it alright if I join you? I mean I can always-"

"Although it may seem it, this step doesn't actually belong to me. You don't have to ask permission," his cute smile took any sting out of the words.

With a grateful grin she settled herself on the opposite end of the step.

"I'm sorry about the specials thing," he said out of nowhere and she blinked confused.

"What 'specials' thing?"

"That I let that couple order the Salmon. I missed the pre-dinner huddle thing and when I asked Johnno he told me it was Salmon. I didn't realize he'd made it up and was playing with you, making you cook extra things."

"Oh," she was a little touched that he cared enough to apologize, "that's ok, I'm used to it. Keeps me on my toes I guess."

He looked at her, his eyes soft as he looked thoughtful.

"What?" she frowned.

"I…no," he shook his head looking away quickly, "it's not my place."

"What isn't?" she probed, "Tell me?"

"Why do you let them treat you like this? Why don't you yell at them or fire them?"

She blinked surprised, "Oh, um, I guess I don't really like confrontation and I, well, it's only been two weeks. Give them time and they may actually get to like me."

"You're their boss," he pointed out, "they aren't supposed to like you."

"Oh," she looked down.

"I mean _I_ like you, of course, but they're your employees. It shouldn't matter if they like you or not, they should do the job they're paid to do."

Monica shrugged a little, not really agreeing or disagreeing. She didn't want to let him know how much she craved people liking her. How much she needed to be accepted. How all this just made her feel like a fat teenager again.

He stubbed out his cigarette, tucking the ever-preset notepad back into the pocket of his dark pants, "Talking of jobs I should really get back to mine. See ya."

"See ya," she repeated softly as she watched him disappear.

* * *

"Hey," she greeted, taking the same spot as the previous two evenings, this time without asking permission.

"Hey," he offered her a quick grin before his eyes fell onto her ruined chef jacket and he cringed, "sorry it got so burnt. I had to wait until no one was looking before I could rescue it- I'm, uh, not much of a confrontation fan either."

"That's ok and thanks," she smiled, "I appreciate that you did that."

He shrugged a little his eyes returning to the pad in front of him. She watched as he scribbled something down onto the paper.

"I don't even know your name," she commented softly and he blinked up at her in surprise. "I mean I've heard them call you 'Bing' but I'm kinda assuming that isn't your first name. If it is you have _interesting_ parents."

He chuckled, a large smile on his face, his blue eyes dancing, "Oh, believe me, I have _very_ interesting parents alright but no they aren't _that_ mean. My name's Chandler."

"Monica."

He nodded offering her a small one-handed wave, "Nice to meet ya, Monica."

"You too," she told him sincerely as he glanced down at his watch.

"Damn, well, that's me done," the notepad was once again tucked into his pants' pocket. "See ya… Monica."

"See ya, Chandler," she grinned a little as she watched him go back indoors. At least now she had a name to put to the rather cute face.

* * *

Monica hummed to herself a little as she diced the tomatoes. She didn't know what had changed but the staff were actually smiling at her tonight. Maybe they were finally warming to her or perhaps Chandler had put in a good word for her?

The kitchen door swung open and she glanced up seeing the man at the front of her thoughts coming in with some empty plates. When he spotted her he frowned, stopping abruptly and staring at her.

"What?" she asked confused.

He shook his head, his mouth a thin line as he ditched the dirty china into the large sink. Glancing around, seeming relieved that the only other two people in the kitchen were at the opposite end, paying them no attention. "I'm sorry, Monica," he said in a low voice, "but, uh, you may wanna change your hat."

Her frown increasing, she plucked the current hat from her head and took in the bold black letters staring back at her. _Quit Bitch_. She couldn't believe she had been stupid enough to think they were starting to like her. They'd actually let her walk around like that all evening, laughing at her. She hadn't been this bullied since high school. She could feel the tears forming, her cheeks flaming as she quickly disposed of the hat.

"Monica?"

She shook her head, wanting to be alone. "I'm going for some air," she informed him hurriedly and dashed out of the kitchen and out of the building.

Sitting on the cold concrete step she pulled her knees up close, a tissue between her fingers as a silent sob broke free. Why her? What had she done to deserve this campaign of hatred?

"Hey, don't cry."

Embarrassed, she scrubbed at the tears as he settled close beside her, hesitantly placing an arm over her shoulders, pulling her against him.

"Don't let them get to you," he whispered. "They're just mean horrible people."

She nodded, although the tears continued. She barely knew this guy and now she was crying on his shoulder. Just how pathetic was she? She couldn't imagine Rachel or Phoebe doing this. She was stronger than this…normally. God, she hated this place and what it was doing to her day by day.

"I'm sorry," she started trying to pull away but his hold on her tightened.

"Don't apologize, if I was having to take the amount of abuse that you do every night, I'd have quit by now, run away. The fact that you have stuck it out shows just how strong a person you are."

"I'm thinking maybe it's time I do quit," she admitted quietly.

"No, don't," he said softly but firmly, his thumb rubbing her shoulder. "If you don't wanna cook anymore or you've found a better job then fine, go for it. But if it's just because of them then don't do it because then they've won and you'll feel crap about yourself for giving in."

"I feel like crap now," she confessed.

"Don't value yourself on their opinions," he advised quietly.

How was he so good at reading people?

"You're right," she agreed nodding, wiping the tears away. "I guess sometimes it gets a little much and I need to vent a bit. Sorry I cried on you, God," she apologized thoroughly embarrassed.

"Hey," he chuckled, not removing his arm from her shoulders; she found she enjoyed its reassuring weight. "You can have my scrawny old shoulder to cry on anytime you need it...providing I'm not already using it for something."

"Thanks Chandler," she chuckled, turning her head to face him and offering him a genuine smile. She was glad he was on her side on days like this.

"You're welcome," he promised, squeezing her shoulders slightly before slowly standing up, "I guess I better get back out there before they wonder where me and my shoulders are. You gonna be ok?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Thank you."

He met her eyes and smiled before leaving her alone on the step. She left it another few minutes, making sure the tear tracks had well and truly vanished before she stood back up and quietly made her way back into the dreaded kitchen.

A few of them glanced at her but remained quiet. Apart from Huwie; he was the one of loudest.

"Hey, you haven't lost your hat have you? We personalized that specially."

She refused to rise to the bait, walking past him towards the storage closet. She could feel his gleeful eyes on her and was wondering what else he'd done. She cautiously opened the door, relieved that nothing fell on her but not surprised to find the shelf completely empty of any hats.

"Ok, very funny, now where are they?"

"Where's what?" he asked, his eyebrows set in a challenge, a horrible smirk on his horrible face.

"The hats, where have you put them?"

"I don't know what you mean."

How childish were they?

"There was plenty of them here earlier," she pointed out, trying to remain calm.

"What can I say?" he shrugged, sharing a knowing look with the small audience that had gathered around to watch. "We must have needed a lot of hats today."

They all laughed as he started to walk away, leaving her in front of the empty store.

"I can't cook without a hat," she shouted after him. "It's against the health regulations."

"You can't cook in a hat," one of them commented causing the others to laugh and high five him before moving away and leaving her alone.

Monica sighed miserably, opening a few of the drawers in case they hadn't moved far. No luck. What was she meant to do? She wasn't allowed to prepare food without a hat, it was one of the official rules and she wasn't about to route through the bin for her 'modified' hat.

"Here."

Suddenly Chandler was there, stuffing something discreetly into her hands. Looking down she almost wept in relief at the hat she was holding.

"How?"

"They stashed them down behind the wine racks," he shrugged. "I figured you might need one."

"I seem to be thanking you a lot lately," she commented lightly and he shrugged easily.

"Just pleased to help," he smiled, his eyes staring into hers for a moment longer than necessary. "Anyway, I gotta run. Hungry people to feed and all that," he waited a beat, "remember, Monica, they're just a bunch of idiots."

With that he was gone and with a little smile she placed her newly acquired hat firmly on her head. She went back to her work-station still grinning, thanking whoever was up there for letting her life cross paths with one Chandler Bing.

* * *

TBC...

A/N- it gets moving a bit more in the next chapter...they may even leave the step!

Anyhow, as it's a little different to the norm I would really really love to hear your thoughts…and if you need another reason to review...it's my birthday tomorrow...so go on ;o)

Thanks again also for all the reviews and kind comments on the Secret and Revelations series and for continuing to read my random ramblings - you guys are awesome.


	2. Chapter 2

Several days had passed since the infamous 'hat' incident and there was no sign that the hostility towards her was going to ease off anytime soon. Every shift was filled with snide remarks, degrading comments and nasty pranks. They really seemed to despise her no matter what she did. At least today's grueling shift was finally over and it wouldn't be long until she could go home, climb into bed and crawl under her nice warm covers. Although she wouldn't admit it to anyone, she was utterly exhausted.

Before she could leave she just needed to inspect the clean-up work; anyone could make a kitchen clean but she liked to ensure it was 'Monica-clean'. Giving it an extra wipe and ensuring the pans were stacked neatly, the handles all facing to the right, she stepped back to admire her sparkling handiwork. It looked damn good.

Monica's proud smile faltered as Huwie suddenly walked into the otherwise empty kitchen; she had hoped he had already left but apparently no such luck. She bit her lip as he approached her, a disturbed smile on his face and she readied herself for whatever was coming.

"I found these lying around upstairs," he indicated to the three large glass jars he was holding. It looked like tomato sauce of some kind but why would they be upstairs? "I thought I'd be helpful and bring them back to the store room."

"O-k," she said slowly, confused.

A frown stayed engraved on her features as she tried to work out what he was up to. She'd bet her new steam-mop and all the accessories that he wasn't doing any of this out of the kindness of his heart. He was scheming something…but what?

"Will you get the door? My hands are full."

Monica eyed him critically for another moment and then eyed the said door. It seemed safe enough.

"Sometime today would be nice. Some of us have lives ya know and I don't want to spend the night here with _you_."

She held in her automatic response to let him know that the feeling was mutual. Cautiously she walked towards him, heading for the store room. As she came directly opposite him she saw his eyes change, barely containing their glee. She watched in slow motion as he lifted the jars to almost shoulder height and then let go, quickly stepping back.

Monica leapt back instinctively, whacking her side against one of the counter tops and grimaced as the pain shot through her. The jars hit the hard floor with a loud smash, the glass shattering instantly. Bright red tomato sauce splattered everywhere, on her, on the cupboards, on the floor she'd just spent 20 minutes cleaning…

"Wh-?"

"Opps," he cut in, looking smug. "I'm such a clutz. Oh well, I'll see you tomorrow… unless you actually take the hint and quit."

She stared at him in disbelief as he walked out leaving behind the mess. How could he do that? Why tonight when she'd been so ready to go home and collapse? Annoyed, she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down as she surveyed the scene. There was no way in hell she was leaving it in this state overnight.

"What happened?"

She looked up surprised to see Chandler standing there. It was like he had a sixth sense when it came to her in trouble. She allowed her eyes to take him in; it was the first time she'd seen him out of his waiter uniform and in civvies. He was just in jeans, a shirt and a leather jacket but boy did he look nice. Very nice.

"Monica?"

She jumped meeting his concerned blue eyes.

"Oh sorry, it's uh nothing, just another one of Huwie's hilarious jokes," she dismissed quickly, feeling her cheeks warming in embarrassment at getting caught checking him out.

She quickly turned away, crouching down and reaching for the larger pieces of glass.

"I know I sound like a stuck record but Huwie's a jerk," Chandler commented, "Let me help you."

With that he took off his jacket, hanging it on a spare peg and started to roll-up his charcoal shirt sleeves.

"You don't have to do that, it's late and your shift is already over."

"Both true but I'm almost thirty so my mom lets me stay out as long as I like," he joked and despite her mood she couldn't help but laugh slightly. She didn't know how he did it but the man always managed to lighten her mood no matter what this place threw at her. "Come on, just let me help," he insisted, "with two of us on the case it will get cleaned up quicker."

"Are you sure you haven't got somewhere better to be? I don't want to keep you from…whatever it is you do when you aren't here."

They hadn't really ever talked much about life outside of work.

"Nah," he dismissed easily avoiding the question, "you really aren't keeping me from much, believe me. Now let's do this."

"Ok," she nodded, grateful for the help and the company, "Thank you, Chandler."

"No biggie," he flashed her a quick grin before grabbing a container for the broken glass to go in. His hands joined hers in the tomato mess, pulling a face as they carefully located the larger shards amongst the gunk. "So, you still aren't tempted to fire him? Not even a little bit?"

"Right now I am, but come tomorrow I know I'll chicken out," she confessed. "I'm not very good at firing people. I'm not sure I could do it."

He paused for a moment looking thoughtful, "Hey, you know what you could do? I, well it sounds a little silly but you know Orson Wells, the director?" she nodded, unsure where he was heading with this. "Well, it was rumored that at the beginning of every movie he would hire somebody, just so he could fire the poor sod in front of everyone. It showed people straight away that he was the boss man and if you didn't do it the way he wanted, you'd be out."

"Ok…" she could see where he was going with this, "but who could I fire?"

"As long as it isn't me," he teased, a sparkle lighting his stunning eyes as he went back to picking carefully at the jagged glass. "You got any friends or family that you could fake hire just to fire?"

She paused in her cleaning action, "You know, you might actually be on to something," she told him thoughtfully. "That's a really good idea."

"I'm known to have them occasionally," he quipped a cheeky grin on his face.

"I even know who would do it. One of my best friends, Joey, is an actor and he's used to being fired, a lot. Hell, he got fired from a burger-king commercial just last week," she laughed but Chandler didn't join in as expected.

She glanced over to him curiously, watching in surprise as his face shifted, turning slightly darker. His smile slipped briefly from his face and she watched as he swallowed hard shaking his head at himself before visibly trying to pull off a more enthusiastic expression. He failed miserably.

"Sounds perfect," he lied. "So, uh, he's an actor? Is he big? Been in anything I'd have seen?"

He stood up then, distancing himself as he went to fetch the dustpan and brush.

Monica frowned a little at the sudden change in atmosphere but decided not to question or push it right now. He'd been so compassionate to her this last week or so and she didn't want to risk ruining that or making him uncomfortable. Without their little fire escape tete-a-tetes she didn't know how she'd get through the more crappy shifts.

"Um," she tried to get her focus back onto his question, "Not really, he's been in a few things here or there but nothing big. He's done a few extra parts in movies, lots of commercials – he was even the face of VD for the health department one year," she chuckled a little at the memory. "I guess his biggest part was when he was on Days of our Lives, but it didn't last long."

"The soap?" Chandler asked, seeming to relax a little.

"Yeah, he played Dr Drake Ramoray for a while," she explained, still subtly studying him. "My roommate Rachel, she loves the show so much and couldn't believe when he landed the role. She was over the moon ecstatic! She helped him read the scripts just to see what was going to happen in advance. He even let her go down to the set to watch them shoot. I think she was more heartbroken than he was when they killed him off."

He nodded, seeming to take it all in in that quiet way he did, "How'd he, uh, go?"

"Fell down an elevator shaft."

"Oooh, that's gotta hurt," he joked and Monica found herself chuckling along with him.

"Yeah," she agreed smiling fondly, "he's a great guy but not the brightest. He accidently made a comment in a magazine article that pissed the writers off, so they showed him what they thought."

Monica started to laugh but realized that once again he wasn't joining in with her.

"Yeah…writers can be powerful people sometimes," he muttered before standing to grab some cloths and spray. "So," he redirected the conversation, "do you think he'll agree to let you fire him?"

She nodded, still confused by him.

"I'm sure if I promise Joey a sandwich plus a day's wages, he won't say no."

"Nice," he grinned in approval.

"He's a good guy, you'll like him," she promised, hoping it was true.

"I'm not gay," he pointed out lightly.

"I didn't mean it like that," she gently hit him, careful not to get any sauce on his shirt, "I never thought you were gay."

"Good," he said softly, his eyes meeting and locking with hers. His eyes were so addictive, especially the way he was looking at her right now. Her stomach tightened in anticipation. "I'd hate for _you_ to think I was."

He continued to hold her gaze and her heart rate sped up as the connection they seemed to share passed silently between them. She thought for a moment he was going to kiss her but after a beat he looked down, breaking the spell.

"This, uh," he cleared his throat, "this looks pretty good," he gestured to the sparkling surface, all signs of the tomato incident erased. "We should run a cleaning business after hours."

"I'll consider it," she teased, still excited from their almost-maybe-kinda moment. "But only if we can call it Monica's Maid Brigade and we could have these uniforms and ooh our logo could be on our aprons and..."

"And the dream's over," he joked, his eyes dancing. "Anyhow, I think our job here is done and we should get out of here before you make me sign my life away with some kinda cleaning contract. You wanna go grab your bits? I'll hang around whilst you lock up."

"You don't have to do that," she argued but he shook his head uninterested in her protests.

"I want to."

"Ok, then…thanks."

He offered her a small nod and another one of his special smiles. A little thrill ran through her as she took the stairs two at a time to fetch her coat and purse from the cloak room. A large smile spread across her face as she realized something; Huwie's little plan to make her evening miserable had completely back-fired.

* * *

"He said yes!" Monica said excitedly as she stepped through the fire escape the next day.

Chandler raised an eyebrow, "You proposing to people now? Anyone I know?"

"No," she laughed as she settled beside him, closer than usual. "I'm gonna hire Joey so I can fire him."

"Oh, congrats," he grinned that gorgeous smile of his.

"He's going to start on Friday, it's gonna be quite fun to boss him around and yell at him."

Chandler turned to her, studying her a moment, "You're looking forward to it aren't you? Getting to fire someone."

"Maybe," she replied coyly, taking in his raised eyebrow, "Ok, yes I am. I just hope it works and people start respecting me."

"If it doesn't then maybe you'll get the confidence to fire someone for real. Starting with Huwie."

"Possibly," she shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ear. She knew it was unlikely, "We'll see."

He chuckled softly, inhaling on his smoke before returning to his notepad, jotting something down. She watched him for a moment before breaking the silence.

"I've never asked about that," she said curiously, gesturing to the notepad, "I mean I always see you with it but never asked what it's for. You always seem to be scribbling in it."

He froze, looking like a deer caught in headlights. She hadn't been expecting that reaction at all.

"Oh, uh this?" he flushed, flipping the cover closed, preventing her from seeing what was written on the pages, as he flustered, "It's nothing, really. Just stupid stuff."

She frowned at the sudden awkwardness; she couldn't help but wonder just what his story was.

"Hey," she reached a hand out to touch his knee, pleased when he didn't reject her. "You've seen a lot of my stupid. I mean you've rescued my chef jacket from the oven, let me cry on you over my hat…do I need to continue?"

"Nah, you're not stupid," he insisted, shaking his head "you're just unlucky to be in such a stupid place. Of course it's gonna upset you. They take it too far."

"Thank you," she studied him, deciding his moral support was more important than getting answers from him right now. Everyone had secrets and she didn't need to know his. Not just yet. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put you on the spot with that. I was just curious. If you don't want to tell me then that's ok."

His blue eyes went from her to the notepad and back to her. Indecision written clearly on his face.

"Honestly," she promised, squeezing his knee.

He sighed, stubbing out his cigarette. "I'll tell you but I haven't got time now, my break finished a few minutes ago. You free after work? You know, barring any tomato jars committing suicide?"

She looked down chewing her lip, "You asking me out?" she asked quietly as he froze again, her question hanging in the air between them.

"Um," he stood up automatically stuffing the mysterious notepad in its usual pocket. His hand ran over and smoothed down his dark red tie as he picked his words. "I'm not sure," he finally admitted. "I mean I'd like to but…I don't know if I should."

She tried to hold back the smile. He wanted to ask her out. Despite whatever was holding him back he obviously felt something between them.

"Well, I'm free," she confirmed to him softly. "Whether it's a date or not."

It was his turn to swallow as he ducked his head briefly before looking back up at her. He eventually cleared his throat and offered her a shy smile before nodding.

"Ok then, I'll uh see you later."

"Sure," she waited until she was alone until she allowed the large smile to spread across her face. He liked her. He was going out with her later, even if it was just as friends.

Things were definitely going in the right direction.

* * *

Monica practically floated through the final hours of her shift. Despite the usual cutting comments and someone deciding to hide all the chopping boards, her good mood wasn't broken. Every now and again he'd catch her eye from across the room and he'd offer her this little smile that did something to her insides.

It seemed to take forever but finally people started to leave. Her heart warmed when she realized Chandler was hovering, his eyes tracking Huwie to ensure he didn't try and pull anything after last night. She kinda liked that he cared enough to try and protect her.

Soon it was just the two of them left and Monica couldn't help but smile, discreetly running her eyes over him. He must have already gone upstairs as he was already dressed in dark jeans and a blue casual shirt and she couldn't help but admire the man. He was gorgeous.

"You ok?" he asked, and she blushed furiously, realizing she had been caught staring yet again.

"F-fine," she replied quickly, "sorry I was just um…let me go grab my coat."

"Sure."

Monica ran up the stairs to the cloakroom. She pushed open the door, stepping back in time as a large pan of water came crashing down onto the floor in front of her. Her heart was pounding and she took some deep breaths only to be startled when Chandler appeared beside her, his front practically pressed to her back.

"You ok?" he panted, his hand on her shoulder. "What was that?"

"Oh, it's nothing," she promised as she turned to him, "Just another stupid prank."

He sighed in annoyance, shaking his head in frustration as he took in the scene, "That could have been dangerous. If that had landed on you you could have had concussion or worse. What's wrong with them? Why can't they just leave you alone?"

"It's ok," she promised but the angry look didn't leave his face.

"Hey," on instinct her hand reached out, her palm lightly touching his cheek, trailing to his stubborn-set jaw trying to ease his tension. "Don't worry about it," she said reminding him softly, "they're just a bunch of idiots, remember?"

He nodded wordlessly and that's when she noticed just how close they were to each other. Their faces were mere inches apart, her hand still touching his cheek. Their eyes locked, searching one another's, although for what she wasn't sure. The room was silent other than their harsh breathing as time seemed to stand still.

Then she felt him move forwards just fraction, his eyes dropping to her lips. It was enough. She leaned in closing the gap, using the hand on his face to guide him as their lips pressed together. She felt the spark between them almost instantly. Surprised at the chemistry, her eyes fluttered closed and she deepened the kiss. He was kissing back just as hard, just as passionate. She felt his hands, one gripping her waist, the other cradling the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair; she couldn't suppress the slight moan which he echoed.

Chandler eventually broke away, swallowing hard and taking a step back from her, putting space between them. He ran a hand through his short hair, making it stick up at adorable angles as he pulled a slight face, "Sorry, I uh, I wasn't intending to do that."

He was apologizing? She hadn't expected that.

"You don't have to apologize," she insisted a little confused, "I uh enjoyed it."

He sighed and Monica couldn't interpret the look on his face. He wasn't exactly jumping for joy but you couldn't fake a kiss like that. No way. It had been too good for him not to have felt something between them.

"Look, uh, let's rescue your stuff and go get that drink."

She stared at him another moment before finally nodding. She stepped over the water to get her purse and jacket as Chandler went to fetch some paper towels. She didn't know him, she had to remind herself. She didn't know much about his past or even his present other than he seemed a really nice guy. Maybe he shouldn't be kissing her for a reason? Did he already have a wife or girlfriend?

She hoped not.

Quietly they left the room, and she smiled as she felt his hand on the small of her back. If he wasn't interested then surely he wouldn't be this touchy-feely with her? They stepped out into the cold air and he waited whilst she locked up the restaurant.

"Where to?" he asked and she shrugged, not having a destination in mind. She was just keen to spend some time with him, try to figure out the enigma that was Chandler Bing. "Well there's a bar just up the street which I've heard is good. Wanna try there?"

"Sure," she offered him a smile as they started to walk side-by-side.

The night air was cool but no unpleasantly so, so they were able to set a leisurely pace as they strolled along the Manhattan sidewalk.

"So, you always been a chef?" Chandler asked, "You're damn good at it."

She blushed a little at the compliment, hoping he wouldn't see it in the moonlight, "Thanks. I've always wanted to cook, much to my mom's disapproval but this is my first 'head chef' job. My last job was a waitress in a 60s diner wearing an awful wig and fake boobs."

His laugh sounded loud in the quiet street, his eyes shining, "Now that I would've loved to have seen," he winked at her.

"It wasn't pleasant, believe me," Monica shook her head at the memory, "especially when they introduced the roller-skates."

He laughed again, shaking his head, "Roller-skates? Seriously? Boy, you've had in tough on the job front, huh?"

"That's kinda why I'm hoping this one will settle down," she confessed into the night air.

"It will," he promised, his voice softening. "Just wait until Friday and you fire your friend. You'll have them eating out of your hand."

She chuckled, wishing she was as certain, "Maybe. So what about you? Always wanted to be a waiter?"

"As long as I can remember," he joked, waiting a beat, "of course not. The pay is lousy, the customers rude and condensing and my colleagues? A load of jerks…present company excluded of course."

"Of course," she smiled. "Then how come you're here?"

"It's a long story," he informed her but his focused appeared to be on the bar that had come into sight. "Is that Johnno?"

They stopped as Monica squinted at the figure outside the bar, her heart sinking, "It looks like it," she sighed. "I'm really not up for seeing any of those guys. At least when they abuse me at work I'm getting paid."

"Don't worry about it, we'll find somewhere else," he offered easily. "Crap, that's Tony and Christie," he winced as he recognized the people gathering by Johnno looking in their direction. "We better get out of here. Follow me."

With that Chandler quickly grabbed her hand, pulling her close to the building they were next to. Keeping his eyes on the bar across the street, he kept them as near to the wall as possible. Monica tried to keep the grin off her face, finding the whole situation quite amusing now he had transformed into 'Mission Impossible' mode. Pressing their backs against the brick he moved them stealthily along the edge, darting down a side alley at the earliest opportunity.

He started running then and as their hands were still joined she had little choice but to follow, letting him weave in and out of a few alleys and side-streets before he finally stopped.

"I think we're clear," he announced looking around and Monica couldn't help but chuckle, shaking her head fondly.

"What?" he raised an eyebrow.

"You're cute," the words left her mouth before she could process what she'd said. Once her brain caught up she panicked, "I mean-"

"You're kinda cute too," he admitted shyly with a bashful little grin.

She hadn't been expecting him to say that and she blushed looking away. He squeezed her hand gently before dropping it and took another look at their surroundings. She followed suite.

"You know where we are?" she asked.

"Yep," he said confidently, "and I even have a suggestion of where we can go if you're game?"

"Great," she nodded impressed. "Where?"

"It's a little unconventional," he teased, "You trust me?"

With a frown she nodded, playing along, "I guess so."

He smiled widely, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously as he silently took hold of her hand again.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Patience Chef Geller," he grinned. "You'll see."

* * *

A/N- wow! Thank you so much for all the reviews guys. I didn't even think anyone would be interested in this 'kinda AU' so a huge thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

Monica couldn't contain her smile as she allowed herself to be tugged along the sidewalk. She enjoyed the feel of his fingers entwined with hers, pleased it seemed he wasn't intending to let go anytime soon. They strolled for a few blocks before Chandler stopped suddenly and gestured to the building in front of them.

"Ta daa."

"There's no bar here?" she frowned eyeing up the elegant apartment building.

"Strictly that's not true," he said teasingly. "There's a lovely private bar out on the terrace."

"Wait…is this your apartment building?" she blinked, she certainly hadn't expected this.

"Technically, it's not _my_ apartment, it's my mom's," he shrugged, "but it's right here and I can promise you we won't bump into any work people..."

She troubled her bottom lip with her teeth as she considered it, feeling his hopeful eyes on her as he awaited her verdict.

"Ok," she eventually nodded amused when he smiled back relieved, "As long as your mom won't mind?"

"Nah," he dismissed easily, pulling her to the entrance of the building. "Depressingly she has a better social life than I do right now. She'll be off somewhere with someone doing…something."

Chandler entered the main lobby greeting the concierge as he led her to the elevator. It all seemed rather fancy, a lot more so than her own apartment. She didn't even have an elevator, let alone one with marble-effect walls and gold trim. She watched stunned as he hit the penthouse button.

"The penthouse?" she asked surprised and he just nodded wiggling his eyebrows. "Now I'm intrigued."

The elevator pinged as it reached its destination and he guided her out, only releasing her hand once they reached the front door. Unlocking it he typed in the pin code for the alarm and flicked on the light switch.

"Nice," she let out a breath, admiring the place. "You live here? I can see why you never moved out."

He chuckled easily, taking her coat and hanging it by the door, "Actually, I've only recently moved in when I came back to New York. I needed somewhere to crash and my mom was happy to have me stay. Let me give you the grand tour."

"Well it's stunning," Monica commented, still a little in awe. The whole place was out of a showroom catalogue. All so modern yet elegant with top of the range gadgets and bright lights and expensive looking furniture. Then they came to the shiny new kitchen. "Wow. I think I have kitchen envy."

"Eh," he chuckled, "It's all a little OTT for my taste. Here," he led her through the sparkling kitchen to another room, "A bar as promised."

"That's crazy," Monica laughed in disbelief at the small bar before her.

"Yeah, my mom's a hoot alright," he rolled his eyes as he opened the drinks cabinet, "She likes to entertain. What's your poison?"

"Scotch on the rocks with a twist," she ordered automatically, watching as he confidently made her drink and then poured the same for himself.

"You wanna go out on the terrace?" he gestured to the double doors that led outside. "Should be warm enough still. Or-"

"Outside sounds nice," she agreed. "I bet the view is amazing."

"That it is," he grinned.

He handed her their drinks and then unlocked the doors. Looking over his shoulder and meeting her eyes mischievously he hit a switch. Outside instantly lit up with a flourish to reveal some wooden tables and chairs, a few large plants and bamboo privacy screens decorated with hanging lights.

"Very nice," she approved stepping out and admiring the space.

"It's my favorite part of the whole place," Chandler confessed taking the glasses and setting them down on the table. "Here," he grabbed her hand again and took her to the small wall at the edge of the roof, "look."

"Wow," she took in the views around them, drinking in the sight of Manhattan at night. The landscape was filled with high-rises and office blocks and looking down she could make out the lights from the never-ending string of cabs that sped along the street below them. "I bet you can see for miles in daylight."

"I'm gonna keep you in suspense, that way you may wanna come back," he teased.

She turned her head towards him a fraction, taking her eyes from the city and onto his face, studying him. It all seemed so romantic and Monica wished she knew what reaction she'd get if she leaned forward and kissed him. His eyes met hers and for a moment he seemed to be considering the same thing before he swallowed, looking away. He muttered something about his drink and retreated to the table.

Suppressing a sigh she slowly followed him, taking the seat opposite as she took a sip of her own drink.

"So," she started the conversation, "You mentioned you came back to New York? Where were you before?"

A slight shadow passed across his face and she frowned, watching as he took another mouthful of his drink, stalling. Did he have something terrible to hide? Had he been in prison or…

"LA," he finally said quietly and she let out a breath.

"Oh." What was so bad about that? "What did you used to do there? More waitering?" she tried to lighten the mood and was chuffed to see a corner of his lips curve up slightly.

"Yeah, that's me, my ambition is to waiter in every state. So far I have…49 to go."

"It's good to have dreams," she teased, watching him closely.

"I was a writer," he eventually admitted, taking some large sips of his drink.

Monica waited but it soon became apparent that no further details were forthcoming, "What kind of writer?" she probed.

"Comedy mostly. I wrote for a tv show."

"Wow," she hadn't expected that, "Anything I would have seen?"

"Maybe," he shrugged, not expanding, "I had a good job, car, house…a nice little life…and that's all in the past, another drink?"

Monica shook her head, having hardly touched her own scotch yet. He nodded quickly and headed back into the bar. She watched through the glass as he prepared his drink, wondering what had happened to him to cause such a dramatic change in lifestyle. At least she was making some progress though.

Chandler returned with his topped-up glass and settled back down across from her. She waited to see if he was going to open up some more, "Mind if I smoke?"

She blinked surprised. She'd rather he wouldn't but it was his place and she was starting to get used to it, "If you need to."

Chandler looked at her a moment then shook his head, "I can wait a bit," he muttered, suddenly shifting slightly, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out the mysterious notepad, placing it on the table in front of her.

"It's inspiration and stuff," he confessed, tapping on the cover. "Writing's still a large part of me, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to kick the addiction," he admitted with a fond lopsided smile. "So that's one of the reasons I chose this job, until I decide what to actually do. I can't sit around this place all day- I'd go crazy and I like to pay my own way. The evening shift means I can spend the day typing and our oh-so-lovely customers often give me great ideas."

"Am I allowed to see?" she asked carefully, not wanting to risk spooking him.

"You want to?" he seemed surprised as he looked up at her, "It's really nothing special."

"I want, if's that ok?"

"Sure, ok, uh, I guess…" he stood up coming around the table and slipped in next to her. She grinned a little, liking him so close.

It was a well-used notepad and judging from the side appearance at least two thirds had been used, the pages crumpled. He lifted the battered cover and she leaned even closer to him, eager to see what was hidden on the pages.

Monica took in the scribbled words and doodles that covered the small page, "For a writer your hand-writing sure is messy," she commented and he barked out a surprised laugh.

"Thanks for the compliment," he joked. "Luckily now-a-days we have something called computers which-"

"Mom and young son on table 7," she read out loud interrupting him, too interested in the notepad and its insights to the man next to her, "Mom: Stop licking everything. What is wrong with you? Yesterday you licked the subway and what happened? You vomited."

"I never said it was gold dust," he shrugged in defense, "but sometimes I get good ideas and write it up and email the scripts across to LA. I still have some connections there and I get paid for it plus I enjoy it."

"Wow," she smiled before he turned the page. She giggled at one of the sketches of a man with breadsticks coming out of his mouth like a wooly mammoth. "My brother does that with chopsticks."

"Yeah?" he smiled, before turning the next page.

Chandler took a few more sips of his drink as Monica studied the artwork.

"What's that supposed to be?" she asked pointing to a blurred circle.

"Hmm," he moved even closer, his side pressing slightly against hers; she liked it. "Oh, that's a pizza saying 'Will you marry me?' Can you believe that's how someone proposed to their girlfriend? Via pizza? Thank god it wasn't my table as I don't' think I would have been able to keep a straight face."

"Hey, I think it's sweet," she protested.

"You mean _cheesy_."

"God, that's awful," she laughed, looking up at him, admiring how handsome he looked in the moonlight. He was so close to her.

He seemed to study her for a moment before his hand reached out to touch her hair. Slowly, he delicately placed a strand behind her ear, his fingers grazing her sensitive skin as he did. She couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through her.

In slow motion Chandler leant forwards and captured her lips. Her eyes closed as she enjoyed the feeling as his pressed his lips a little harder. The kiss deepened quickly and she groaned softly, turning her body towards him, wanting more. This is what she'd been craving since that first kiss and this was even better.

"I see we have company."

They sprang apart quickly. Monica instantly blushing furiously at the knowing smirk on the older lady's face.

"Mom," Chandler grated, "I didn't think you'd be home so early."

"Early?" she laughed, "You kids," she shook her head before approaching them. "I'm Nora, Chandler's mother."

"Monica," she shook her hand, her face still beet red.

Then it suddenly clicked.

"Wait! Nora Bing? The author?!" His mom nodded, slightly amused. "Oh my god, your books are great. My roommate is totally obsessed with them. She's counting down the days until your new one is released. Wait until I tell her I've met you, she won't believe it."

"Don't encourage her," Chandler mock-grumbled, a hand covering his face as he groaned. "Her ego is big enough as it is."

"Nonsense," Nora dismissed him, "It's always lovely to meet a fan. Chandler just doesn't appreciate my work."

"What can I say? Mistress Bitch just isn't really my thing," he deadpanned.

Monica couldn't help but grin at the glares being exchanged between mother and son.

"Anyway, it was lovely to meet you, Monica. I'm going to turn in, a girl needs her beauty sleep. You two have fun!" she winked.

With that she walked away, heading back inside and an awkward silence settled over them. Monica smoothed the back of her hair whilst covertly watching him as he let out a long breath.

"It doesn't matter if you're 29 or 17, your mom catching you making-out is still embarrassing." He muttered causing Monica to grin.

"At least she went easy on us."

"On you," he corrected wryly. "I'll be getting third degree in the morning. She's always disturbingly interested in my love life and will want to know _everything."_

"She sounds the exact opposite to my mom."

"Good, I don't think the world could take two of them."

Monica chuckled again before a shiver ran through her.

"You cold?" he asked, instantly scooting closer to her, his arm going over her shoulders.

"A little," she confessed, allowing herself to lean against him, basking in his warmth.

They stayed in a comfortable silence for a while, Monica drinking more of her scotch as she just enjoyed being in his arms. He really was the sweetest guy out there, she just wished she knew where she stood with him. After their first kiss he'd apologized and now she couldn't help but wonder how he would have reacted to the second kiss if his mom hadn't interrupted them. Would he have pushed her away again saying it was a mistake or would she be getting the exclusive tour of his bedroom right now?

Another shiver rippled through her at the thought and his grip tightened on her, "You're cold. Wanna go inside?"

She tensed. Was that an invitation?

"I mean there's couch in there and we could hang out some more?"

Monica glanced at her watch. She wanted to stay longer, to see what exactly this all was but it was late. Very late.

"I'd love to but I should head home. Rachel's gonna wonder where I am."

"Can't you let her wonder a little while longer?" he murmured, one of his thumbs brushed the top of her shoulder causing goosebumps and another shiver to run through her in anticipation. "I could do you another drink?"

"As tempting as that sounds," she swallowed, it sounded very tempting, "I need to get back. Sorry."

"Oh, ok," she was pleased he sounded a little disappointed as he stood up, closing the notepad and shoving it into his jeans pocket. "You live far from here?"

"No," she shook her head, "only about 10 minutes, I think. I bet you could see my place from here in daylight."

"Let me walk you home?" he asked softly.

"You don't have to, I can get a cab," she promised but he shook his head.

"Let me, please?"

She smiled blushing a little as she stared into those gorgeous blue eyes, "Ok, but only if you're sure?"

"Very sure," he grinned, grabbing their glasses and leading her back through into the kitchen.

Raised a gentleman he helped her on with her coat, although his hands lingered slightly longer than strictly necessary. As he went to open the door he almost tripped over a couple of books on the floor. Confused he bent down and picked them up, rolling his eyes as he spotted what it was.

"She must like you," he commented handing her the mysterious books.

Monica looked at the cover in confusion then gasped, "Is this her new one? It's not out until the end of the month."

"Sneak preview," he shrugged easily, "I'm guessing for you and your roommate." She started to read the back and he groaned, "None of that now. Come on," he opened the door, playfully shoving her out of it.

* * *

"Well, this is me," Monica said as they stopped outside her apartment.

He eyed it up and nodded, not letting go of her hand, "Can I see you to your door?" he asked, "Or is that too weird?"

"No, it's not weird, it's sweet," she corrected, despite his look, "I'd love you to."

His face lit up as he waited for her to let them into the entrance way. As they took the stairs Monica desperately wished she had the courage to ask him what he was thinking. Whether he liked her, had a good time with her, wanted to see her again? There had been so many mixed messages and she was confused but didn't want to risk upsetting the delicate balance they had between them.

"This is my floor," she said with a smile, "and this is my door."

"Hey, you're a poet," he quipped, stuffing his hands into his pants' pockets as he rocked back onto his heels, his eyes looking everywhere but at her.

"So…" she started, swallowing and looking down at the floor, "I had a great time tonight."

He looked up then, a cute grin on his cute face, "Me too," he confessed but didn't say anything further.

Monica took a deep breath, deciding to take the lead and just be honest, "I wouldn't say no to doing it again sometime…"

He swallowed, looking away and Monica resisted sighing. What was going on with him? Was there someone else? Did he have a wife back in LA? There had to be something.

"Yeah…I…" he ran a hand through his hair in frustration at trying to get his words out, "It would be nice…"

"I'm sensing a but," Monica prompted.

"Yeah, no, I'm sorry I'm not very good at this."

"Stumbling over your words?" she teased, "You seemed pretty good at it to me. I thought you were a writer?"

"Well on paper you can edit lots but out here it's more like live theatre and I was never much of an actor…" he pulled a face, "Look, I like you Monica but it's…complicated and there's…Can we just see where it goes?"

"Sure…" she frowned, not quite understanding but pleased that he at least acknowledged he liked her.

"Great, ok," he smiled at her, stepping forward and she waited for the good-night kiss, confused when his lips brushed her cheek instead. "I'll see ya, tomorrow."

He offered her one last 'boy next door' cute grin and then disappeared.

Confused, Monica let out a frustrated sigh before she slowly turned around and readied herself to face Rachel's questions. She pushed open the door to apartment 20, not that surprised to see the lights on and her roommate still up.

"Hey," she tried with a guilty wince.

"Where the hell have you been?" Rachel demanded, jumping up from the table. "I've been so worried about you. I was about to call the others and then the police. It's late."

"Sorry," Monica mumbled, dumping her purse and jacket on the nearest hook, "I went out after work."

"With who?" Rachel asked confused. "I thought they all hated you?"

"Chandler." Monica admitted as she collapsed on a chair.

"Chandler?" she scrunched up her face, "Your fire escape friend?"

"Yeah," Monica nodded.

"Wait…went out as in date?" she asked, her earlier anger starting to turn into curiosity.

"I have no idea," Monica moaned.

Rachel frowned, looking at her critically before silently walking over to the recently boiled kettle and pouring a couple of cups of tea. She placed a steaming mug in front of her roommate as she took the chair next to her.

"Thanks," Monica sighed gratefully, wrapping her hands around the warm cup.

"So, did he ask you out?"

"I don't know," she muttered.

"How can you not know?"

"If he doesn't know how am I meant to know?"

Rachel frowned at her, "Did you kiss him?"

"We had two amazing kisses," Monica's tone didn't reflect the good news.

"But?"

"One he apologized for and the other got interrupted," she sighed in frustration, "and then he walked me home, stuttered something about 'seeing how it goes' and kissed my cheek. Why are men so complicated?"

"I know what you should do," Rachel said confidently, "let us meet him. We'll work out what's going on with him."

"Hell no," she shook her head firmly, "That's the last thing I need. You guys will definitely scare him off and he's skittish enough already."

"I'm just saying leave him in a room with me and Phoebe and we'll get some answers."

"No interrogations," Monica ordered. "I like this guy, ok, I just wished I could get inside his head and see what the heck's going on with him. He's so cute and hot and nice and urgh frustrating as hell."

"Maybe he's just a commitment-phobe?" she suggested, "You didn't show him your wedding folder or tell him the names you picked out for your future children did you?"

"Of course not," she grinned a little, drinking her tea.

"Just give him time, Mon," Rachel suggested as she stood up, rubbing her shoulder. "Men are strange."

Monica chuckled in agreement, "Thanks Rach," she said as her roommate turned to leave. "Oh," she called, "there's a present for you in my bag."

Intrigued and unable to resist the magic 'p' word Rachel made a bee-line for her bag, pulling out the two books.

"Oh my God," she was stunned, "how did you…?"

"She's Chandler's mom," Monica smiled at her shocked reaction.

"Then in that case definitely give him another chance. Give him lots of chances, lots and lots."

Monica shook her head as Rachel excitedly examined both copies. Her roommate opened the front cover to one of them and frowned, "I think this one is for you," she handed her the book. "G'night Mon."

She watched amused as Rachel quickly retreated to her bedroom, already starting to read the opening paragraph. Monica then turned her attention to the novel sat in her hands, opening it to see what Rachel was talking about. She blinked in surprise at the handwritten message, _Thanks for making him smile again._

Hmm.

The mystery of Chandler Bing continued.

* * *

A/N – thanks so much to everyone that has reviewed – means a lot and always very much appreciated! I'm relieved that people are enjoying this one. Most of you guessed writing played some part in his life but there's still a bit to learn about the man! Also, I need to confess to being a huge Studio 60 fan so I suspect that's what's influenced me here…

Oh and happy Easter to everyone that celebrates it :o)


	4. Chapter 4

"Hi," Monica greeted the next evening as she sat down closely next to him on their step.

"Hey."

She frowned as he scooted fractionally away from her.

"Are you ok?" she asked and he offered her his trademark smile.

"Of course, I just," he glanced over his shoulder as if to ensure no one was there. "I just think we should keep it outside of work."

"Oh," she blinked surprised, trying to ignore the hurt that shot through her.

"No, not like that," he sighed, risking a quick touch to her knee, his thumb rubbing lightly. "I had a great time last night and I do like you but I don't think it's such a good idea that those lot in there know I like you."

"Oh," she repeated. Was he ashamed to be seen with her? Was he really that afraid of what those jerks thought of him?

"I'm not ashamed of you or anything," he explained quickly, as if reading her thoughts, "I just think it's better if I'm on the inside. This way when they hide your hat or put your keys in the freezer, I can warn you about it."

"Wait, they put my keys in the freezer?"

"Yeah," he confirmed with a sigh, "in a tub of water. You better grab them out when you go back otherwise they'll be frozen solid in a block of ice by the time the shift finishes." It was her turn to sigh. Their pranks didn't get to her as much as before and she fully suspected that was because of the man currently sitting beside her. Over these last couple of weeks he'd fast become her rock in this hellhole. "See, if they know I'm 'team Monica' they'll keep stuff from me."

"I guess," she reluctantly agreed although she secretly quite liked the whole 'team Monica' thing.

"Hey, it's just until the weekend right? Then you'll fire Joey and become the scary boss lady and they'll all be scared of you and all this crap will finally be over."

She nodded, a small smile coming to her face; he was good at making her smile and she loved that fact.

"So did you get in trouble with your roommate?" he asked.

"Oh yeah, she waited up for me. Thank god I had that book from your mom as a bribe!" He chuckled in acknowledgement. "What about you? Did you get the third degree this morning?"

"Uh huh," he rolled his eyes good-naturedly, "she wanted to know everything about you, was I seeing you, are you my girlfriend, how long had I been seeing you, am I seeing you again, blah, blah, blah."

Monica nodded, resisting commenting that she would like to know the answers to some of those questions as well.

"So, are you free again tonight?" he asked innocently, letting it hang in the air.

"I'm sorry," she shook her head regretfully, "I've got to get an early one tonight – I'm babysitting my nephew tomorrow."

"Oh."

"He's fast on his feet now and I need to be awake and alert," she winced, he still looked disappointed, a little pout coming to his lips; it was quite an endearing look on him. "You could walk me home though if you want?" she suggested, "Though, no, it's out of your way."

"Nah ah, you can't offer and then just retract it like that. I'm walking you home later. No choice."

She smiled shyly, "Thanks Chandler."

"You don't have to thank me, I want to do it." He promised softly, their eyes meeting for a long moment, until he looked away and down at his watch. "I better run, see ya later."

"Later," the smile stayed on her face until he had left.

She was very grateful to have him on 'team Monica'.

* * *

"She's carrying her brother's babies?" he asked a little stunned as they walked home later that evening. "I mean it's sweet…but kinda disturbing."

"She's already enjoying freaking people out," Monica agreed, "When she tells people her brother is the father- you should see their faces."

"I bet," he laughed, his hand discreetly finding hers, threading their fingers together. "And triplets? That's a whole lot of babies."

"Ye-ah," she swallowed, enjoying his hand in hers. It was nice after having to ignore him most of the evening to maintain the ruse.

"How did her brother take the news he was getting three kids? Usually, the odds of just one of those eggs attaching and adapting to the surrogate womb is like…what?" he asked as he noticed her raised eyebrow.

"Were you a doctor as well as a writer back in LA?"

His step faltered slightly and Monica cursed herself for even mentioning his past life. For whatever reasons he still seemed very sensitive about that time.

"No, I uh," he recovered quickly, "I briefly considered it as a career choice when I moved back here but it turns out the final exam was like 3 years longer than the waitering one so, you know," he shrugged in a go-figure way and Monica smiled relieved.

"They made you take a course to become a waiter?" she teased lightly and he chuckled.

"Nah, I got to skip it; turned out I was a natural."

Monica grinned, squeezing his hand lightly, "I'm not so sure Joey will be a natural," she confessed, "This morning he knocked over the cereal packet and there were cheerios all over the floor and he didn't even notice."

"And…what, you're worried he's a secret cereal killer?"

Monica raised an eyebrow at him, clearly unimpressed, "Cereal killer?"

"I say dumb things sometimes," he shrugged nonchalantly, "You should probably get used to that. I don't get paid to be funny anymore…anyway, swiftly moving on, what was so bad about him spilling cereal?"

"He stepped on some and they squished onto the floor and some crumbs made it into the carpet and urgh," she shuddered much to his amusement. "I'm not a fan of mess, especially not in the kitchen."

"Noted, remind me to never attempt to cook you pancakes one morning," he said much to Monica's delight that he wanted to wake up with her one morning. "I tried a while back for my mom's birthday and well, the cleaner's still pissed at me and the pancakes were inedible."

"You have a cleaner?"

"Doesn't every waiter?" he quipped before shrugging embarrassed. "It's my _mom's_ cleaner. Mom doesn't like housework and is often away on tour or locked away writing, so she has someone come in. It's not a big deal."

"If you say so," she shook her head in amusement as they reached her building and she stopped.

"Come on, door-to-door service," Chandler grinned, pulling her up the steps.

When they came to her landing and reached the door to apartment 20 she turned to him.

"Well, I would invite you in but then you'll have to meet the vultures and you may not get back out alive."

"That's ok, it's kinda late and I uh," he shrugged and she nodded. She didn't really want him to meet everyone until she at least knew where she stood. They hadn't really been out on a proper date yet and something was definitely holding him back…she just didn't know what yet.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow?" Chandler asked hopefully.

"Sure, if it wasn't for Ben I'd suggest lunch but…"

"Ben?" he creased his brow. "I have competition?"

"From like a 2 year old," she laughed, running a hand down his arm, "he's my nephew."

"Aw, right," he looked embarrassed, a cute blush coloring his face. "Well on that note…"

As he turned to move away, Monica reached out a hand, grabbing his arm and holding him in place. He raised a confused eyebrow at her and before she could overthink it she pulled him closer to her. She clamped both hands either side of his face and crashed her lips to his.

It took just seconds for him to respond, kissing her back just as hungrily. She could feel the electricity crackling through her as the kiss deepened. The man knew what he was doing. She felt him walk her backwards a few steps, bringing her back to the wall. Sandwiched between the brick and Chandler she let out a little whimper. How could just a kiss affect her this way?

When the need for oxygen became too great they broke apart, his face was flushed and his breathing somewhat ragged as he looked at her. Eventually with a heavy sigh he took a step back, his eyes still intently on hers.

"That, um," he cleared his throat, wetting his lips, though his voice was still a little huskier than normal, "that was some kiss good night."

"Yeah," she smiled back, not breaking their eye contact. "That was something alright."

He nodded, studying her a moment longer before taking another step back, "Right, so uh, I'll see ya tomorrow?"

"Sure."

They shared another look before he grinned and disappeared back down the stairs.

* * *

"So I have a question for ya," Chandler asked as she joined him on the fire escape a few days later. "How come everyone's calling Joey 'Dragon'?"

She snorted, "Just something he's trying. Joey's a little…"

"Yeeaah, I got that when I had to tell him how to pronounce 'carbonara' like four times," he commented lifting his smoke to his mouth, "I thought you said he was Italian?"

"Part Italian," she corrected, "he doesn't really speak it but he does know a few Italian swear words."

"And that will get him far in life I'm sure," he teased, his eyes dancing. "He seems to be doing ok, although I did have to help him with his tie."

"Thanks for looking out for him," she smiled warmly.

"No problem," he said quietly, "he's looking out for you right? So it's only fair I look out for him."

Monica swallowed at the sincerity of the man. She really wanted to kiss him right now but looked away instead, remembering whatever this was between them had to remain a secret at work. Her gaze landed on the notepad on his knee.

"Any good material tonight?" she asked.

"Mainly Joey, he's filled like 3 pages," he chuckled and Monica laughed along with him. "When are you firing him?"

"I'm thinking tomorrow or Monday, get him some money and make it more believable."

"Smart move," he nodded, slipping the notepad away as he stood up, stubbing out his cigarette. "Although, I might need to buy another notepad to cope with the additional Joey material. See you later?"

"Later," she agreed with a laugh.

* * *

"What the hell happened?!" Monica hissed, pulling Joey to one side, rolling her eyes as he started making lame excuses about the tip money. "I don't care, we had a deal. That's the reason you're here! I've got to fire you!"

She needed them to either like her or respect her. She needed to work in a nice friendly environment and more importantly she wanted to be able to openly date Chandler. If he was willing to take the chance and actually date her that was. Yeah, she knew there was something holding him back, something making him skittish but it would be nice to be able to openly exchange a quick hug or kiss with him.

"I wanna help but I've gotta pay rent, Monica! Look, how about this? You don't fire me, instead I stay here, I gain their trust and they'll start listening to all the nice things I've been saying about you?"

"What kinda things have you been saying?" she asked curiously. Chandler hadn't mentioned anything.

"Well nothing yet," he blushed slightly, fidgeting, "they _really_ hate you and I want to fit in."

She sighed down-heartedly and nodded, watching as he offered her one last apologetic wince before turning away, looking back down at the money in his hand. Tearing her eyes off him she reluctantly returned to the starters she was preparing.

"So that didn't go to plan, huh?"

She looked up, grateful to meet his playful eyes.

"No, not exactly," she admitted, glancing around to make sure they were being ignored as usual. "What do I do, Chandler? He won't let me fire him."

"You're his boss," he pointed out, "fire him anyway."

"I can't do that," she chuckled, shaking her head, "Not to Joey."

"Then tell him you'll give him a few more days, if things haven't changed you'll have to fire him whether he wants you to or not."

"Maybe," she mused.

"Don't worry, it'll all work out," he promised quietly, his hand resting on her arm reassuringly. They shared a long look before Huwie loudly entered the kitchen complaining about something and breaking the moment completely.

Rolling his eyes at his colleague's timing, Chandler offered her arm a quick squeeze before he removed his hand completely and walked away.

As Huwie continued to rant loudly, Monica tried to ignore him, hoping Chandler's wise words were true.

* * *

"Hey," Joey grinned as he headed over to her. It was still kinda weird seeing someone else smile at her in this kitchen. It was usually just Chandler.

"Hey," she grinned back, refocusing on chopping the tomatoes. "What's up?"

"Have you seen Chandler? I think this is his."

Glancing up she spotted his trusty notebook.

"I'll take it," she grabbed it knowing how important it was to him and how he didn't like questions about it. "I've got my break in a second, so I'll give it to him then."

"Ok, cool," he nodded. "I better get back to flirting with the woman at table 17- she is hot!"

"Joey!" she protested but he just winked at her and walked out of the kitchen.

Finished with the preparation for the salad, she washed her hands and told the sous-chef she was on her break. He merely grunted and she just shook her head. With both Joey and Chandler on 'team Monica' it made her feel a bit better but she still hated the hostile atmosphere here. She'd have to fire Joey soon and pray it worked.

She headed for their fire escape but frowned when she saw it was firmly closed. Pushing it open she immediately discovered why; it was pouring down with rain and hail. Hmm, she glanced around just in case she could spot Chandler sheltering somewhere but he wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Deciding she didn't want to go to the breakroom and hoping that Chandler may come looking for her, she left the door open a jar and sat on the floor in the doorway, watching the large angry drops as they hit the concrete with an impressive force. She loved a good storm.

The breeze lifted her hair and she closed her eyes a moment, just enjoying the fresh air. She loved being in a kitchen…maybe not this one so much. She loved the smells, the heat and the chaos but at the same time the cool air was always so refreshing.

Opening her eyes Monica reached into her pocket and extracted the small notepad, stroking the tatty cover idly. He'd let her look through it at his house but she'd only skimmed a few pages. She was curious to see what ideas and inspiration he'd found recently and figured he wouldn't mind.

She started flicking through, taking a little longer to decipher the hurriedly scribbled words, jokes and brainstorms. Monica chuckled at a little sketch of two stickmen that were sat at a table with the speech bubble, "I didn't steal it. I don't steal things ok, you know that. I'm actually insulted you would think that…I _took_ it. It's totally different." It was interesting to see inside his psyche. To see what things inspired him enough to capture them.

Noticing, there was a page with the corner purposely folded down she turned to it, curious. Looking at the words she suddenly froze. The smile on her face instantly morphing into a disbelieving frown as she took in the underlined title 'Shoo Chef- Ways to Make a Bad Chef Quit'. Below there was a list of horrible cruel suggestions. The first several items had already been done to her, burn jacket, replace salt and sugar, place pan handles over the flame, they were all on there. Below those were a list of fresh ideas that she hadn't encountered…yet.

She swallowed, rereading the words on the page in disbelief, trying to make sense of them as the feeling of betrayal started to slowly spread through her. Was this all some kind of twisted game to him? Was he in on it with the others this whole time and been laughing behind her back? Coming up with suggestions of how to torment her?

No, she shook her head firmly in denial, that couldn't be it…could it? There had to be a mistake here, he wouldn't do that to her. She hadn't known him long but she'd felt a connection with him. He was such a nice guy, he cared for her and seemed so genuine…it couldn't have all been fake. She looked back down to the traitorous pad but the words refused to change, boldly staring her back in the face, in black and white.

No, not Chandler. He wouldn't do this to her. She just needed to find him, speak to him and get this misunderstanding straightened out. Now.

Still confused but desperately trying not to think the worst, Monica headed for the breakroom, assuming that was where he'd be. She gripped the notepad tightly in one hand as she marched up the stairs and down the small awkward corridor, biting back a snarky comment when one of the worker's deliberately rammed a trolley into her side.

She rounded the corner and stopped outside the door, peering through the small circle-window into the staff-room and paused. Chandler was there but he wasn't alone. He was sat balanced on the window sill, the window wide open as he smoked, despite the fact it was a non-smoking zone. He had his back to her and there were at least two others in there.

Damn.

Monica hesitated. They didn't like her in the breakroom. They barely tolerated her in the kitchen but the breakroom they now considered their territory. No outsiders. Plus what would the others make of it if she barged in there needing to talk to Chandler? As she debated her limited options she heard Huwie's loud voice from inside the room.

"I'm telling ya, Bing, I reckon you might win this one. Gain her trust, sleep with the bitch then leave her heart broken. She's definitely gonna quit and you'll be crowned king. We might even make a statue in your honor or at least scratch your name into one of the pans or something."

She blanched, waiting for Chandler to tell them to go to hell. To deny everything and restore her faith in him.

Silence.

"The prize-pool for getting her to walk is up to $400 right now and its going up," Johnno commented. "I wished I would have thought of fake-dating her. It may be the slow method but it's like the tortoise and the hare race. It's pure genius. You're genius."

"I know."

Two simple words that crushed her.

She didn't want to believe it. Desperately didn't. Despite the evidence getting crushed in her white-knuckled hand, despite the laughter coming from the breakroom, she didn't want to believe it. Couldn't believe that he would do that to her.

Her head started to spin, her heart beating rapidly, and blood rushing through her ears as it all started to crumble down around her. Overwhelmed, she stumbled her way to the bathroom. With shaking hands she locked the door and finally let angry tears fall. It wasn't the first time she'd cried in this cubicle but it was definitely the most painful.

Betrayal and anguish raced through her as she tried to get a handle on her sudden emotion turmoil. She felt so embarrassed, humiliated. Had he been telling them everything they shared? Laughing over her insecurities and high-fiving over her crying on his shoulder? Had his LA story been a lie? God, how had she been so stupid and let herself trust him so quickly. Of course Chandler hadn't been interested in her. No guy was that nice unless they had an ulterior motive.

But why had he acted so skittish about everything. Was her chasing him an added bonus to his horrible little game? Or had kissing her turned his stomach so much he could only handle so much? All those times he'd just happened to be there when she'd needed him, had they all been set up? Had they told him what they were planning so he'd be ready to play the comforting friend…or worse, had he been the one setting them up and directing the others?

No. These questions weren't helping her.

Taking some deep breaths she tried to get a grip of herself. She waited a few more minutes as she calmed her breathing and went over to the small sink. She stared at the reflection of her red blotchy face in the mirror before she splashed some cold water over it. Carefully she patted her skin dry with a paper towel, praying it would erase any traces of tears. She refused to give them any more satisfaction.

Monica unlocked the door and went to the cloakroom, grabbing her stuff, pleased that it was untouched and where she left it. She couldn't handle anymore hostility tonight. Any more proof of how cruel and mean this place could be.

Her head down she headed straight to the kitchen, ignoring the other workers and heading straight for Louie.

"Er, Louie I er-"

"Spit it out would ya?"

She swallowed, "I'm not feeling too good so I'm going to head home. Can you handle everything here?"

"I was doing it months before you even started. I'll cope."

She nodded, knowing that hearing a 'get well soon' was unlikely.

Monica left quickly, not seeing Chandler or Joey, for which she was grateful. She needed time to process this and be composed before she confronted him. And Joey had known her too long and would know something had happened. She walked at a swift pace, tightening her coat around her to keep out the bitter chill of the wind. Rain continued to pour but she barely noticed, her head too chaotic and her heart too broken.

She hadn't known him long enough to have a broken heart, she insisted, trying to make herself believe it. Though in truth, in the short amount of time she'd known him he'd got under her skin. She was really going to miss him.

"Monica?"

She blinked looking up to see Rachel's concerned face. Surprised she realized she was standing in her apartment doorway.

"Monica?" It was Phoebe this time. "Why are you home already? Are you ok?"

"No," she whispered shaking her head, letting the girls come to her.

They gently guided her to the couch as Ross joined them.

"What happened?" he asked.

"It was all a lie," she said softly, swallowing as her voice broke. It was still so raw. "Chandler was just using me, trying to…" she could feel herself losing control, "trying to get me to quit to win some money. I can't believe he would-"

She went silent. Speaking it out loud hurt too much, made it all too real. She ducked her head not wanting to waste any more tears on the fake relationship that she had come to rely on so quickly. She felt the others hug her, comforting her. These were her true friends, she needed to be grateful she had these wonderful people in her life and not dwell on Chandler.

"I thought he was genuine," she whispered as she mourned for what she'd lost. "I thought he liked me and he truly cared for me. All this time it was-"

She shook her head, it was too hard. Too hard to think about how cheated she felt. How the one piece of light she'd found at the horrible restaurant, that one candle had been brutally extinguished, leaving nothing but smoke in the darkness.

For the first time since their lives crossed paths, she wished she'd never met Chandler Bing.

* * *

A/N- Thanks again for all the reviews and comments. You guys rock!

I love the cereal killer joke from season 4, seems so underated so I was determined to get it in here somehow- hope it worked :o)


	5. Chapter 5

Monica took a deep breath as she turned the corner, the restaurant coming into view and seeming to mock her. Rachel had tried to convince her to stay home today, to take a sick day and as appealing as that sounded she wouldn't let them win. Couldn't. No matter how hard it was, she refused to give in and quit, especially now. Thoughts of the large smirk on his face as he counted his money and high-fived the others made her feel sick to her stomach. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction. No way.

She was Monica Geller.

She didn't feel ready to fully confront him just yet, her heart was still trying to comprehend exactly what had happened. It had been so quick and brutal that it hadn't had a chance to recover and rebuild itself. She'd have to try and avoid him today as much as possible, give herself some time and then she'd face him and deal with it, face reality.

"Monica!"

She swallowed, dread rushing through her as Chandler jogged up to meet her. She kept on walking.

"Hey? Monica?" He was right next to her but she kept her head down, telling herself to ignore him.

He got in front of her, forcing her to stop. He placed a hand on either side of her shoulders but she abruptly shrugged him off.

"You ok?" he asked confused, his brow deeply furrowed as he tried to make out her strange behavior, "Hey, what's going on? Are you alright? I've been waiting for you, I was worried about you leaving early yesterday; do you still feel ill?"

She squared her shoulders, she could do this. Pushing past him, she continued walking, her steps quick. He grabbed her arm, coming around in front of her again and this time she looked up, letting him see the betrayal and anger in her eyes.

He startled, taking a step back, "Monica? What's-"

"Drop the act," she demanded, trying to keep her voice steady, cold.

"Act?" he sounded confused, "What are you talking about?"

"I know everything."

"Good, because I know nothing!" he snapped, "What's going on with you?"

Monica shook her head frustrated that he was going to make it difficult for her, frustrated that he cared so little for her that he was going to try and play her until she broke. That he wouldn't just admit it and end it now. It hurt she meant so little to him but she'd be damned if she was going to show him that.

"Forget it," she whispered hotly, not letting the tears that stung the back of her eyes actually fall. She wouldn't show him weakness, not again.

She was grateful he didn't try to follow her and she quickly entered the restaurant. Changing into her chef clothes on autopilot, she headed into the kitchen. She ignored the usual snide comments and muttered remarks as her colleagues expressed their displeasure that she hadn't taken a sick day as they'd hoped.

As she led the quick huddle, Monica could feel Chandler's piercing eyes on her but she refused to meet his gaze.

"You alright?" Joey whispered a little while later as she placed down her knife.

"Yeah," she lied, pleased he was here with her through all this.

Part of her had thought she'd need to fire him faster to try and scare them, to redeem herself after falling for the Chandler thing. But another part of her was even more reluctant to, needing a friendly face to get her through the next few days. Just a few days to get over Chandler with his gorgeous blue eyes and cheeky smile…she just had to get over him and then she could fire Joey.

Would it still work though? Would Chandler have already told them all? It had been his idea -was it part of his ploy? Did he plan to expose her and Joey as fakes in front of everyone? She could imagine it now, everyone standing around laughing at her, pointing at her, making the situation even worse than it already was.

Hell, maybe she could just fire Chandler? That would solve all of her problems. Then she wouldn't have to work with him; she would get her revenge and show everyone that you didn't mess with Chef Geller. But could she actually do it? Could she look him in the eye in front of everyone and fire him? Make him walk out of her life and never see him, those eyes or that smile again? Did she have a choice?

Frustrated, she headed towards the back of the kitchen to grab her sharpening stone.

"Hi." She closed her eyes annoyed. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? "Look," he continued, after she didn't respond, "did earlier really happen or did I drink too much Yoo-hoo last night?" He was trying to make a joke, trying to make light of the situation. Her blood started to boil. How could he even try and joke about this? Biting down her hurt and anger she decided to blank him. "Would you please talk to me? At least clue me in on what I've meant to have done?"

Growling, she turned to glare at him, "Like you don't know!" she bit out, pissed that he kept trying to maintain this facade. "I know what you're trying to do, ok, so just stop it. It's mean and horrible and I don't deserve it," she swallowed, hating how her voice wavered.

"I still don't understand," he sounded pained, sincere and she closed her eyes. How could he still affect her like this when she knew it was all an act?

"Here," she dug into her pocket pulling out the notepad, shoving it hard at his chest. "Ways to make a bad chef quit? Ring any bells? Well I've got some bad news for you, I've read them now, so you've lost your surprise factor."

She swallowed seeing the recognition in his eyes.

"That's not…it isn't what it looks like."

"Sure it isn't," she mocked sarcastically. "I heard you in the breakroom too, discussing your 'prize' for getting rid of me, how genius it was. I can't believe you'd sink this low Chandler, for the sake of a few hundred dollars, which I know you don't need," her voice cracked again as tears filled her eyes, "I just hope it was worth it."

With that she pushed past him back into the main kitchen. She had to keep it together, she didn't want to break down in front of everybody. Giving her knife a quick sharpen, she started to dice the fish with more force than was needed, trying to block everything out. Block out just how unfair this whole situation was.

She just needed to focus on the food, focus on her job.

Monica looked down at her chopping board, surprised at how fast she'd gotten through the fish. "Can you get me some more swordfish?" She asked a passing assistant who just looked at her, "I need more swordfish."

"I don't speak English."

"You did a minute ago," she pointed out trying not to get worked up.

"Well," the woman smirked, "I don't know what to tell you."

Monica shook her head, fighting back more tears. Why did they all hate her? Why wouldn't they just give her a chance? Upset that she was getting upset over something so stupid, she shook her head quickly.

"Fine, I'll get it myself then," she griped, walking towards the fridge.

Entering the chiller she headed straight to where she knew the swordfish was kept, still muttering to herself. Seconds later the door slammed closed behind her. She was trapped. Telling herself not to panic she tried pushing the door back open but it wouldn't budge.

"Very funny!" She shouted, trying to remain calm but she could feel the terror bubbling up through her. She hated closed spaces. "Somebody let me out! Please?"

There was no response as she fumbled around in the dark. Tears were starting to fill her eyes as anxiety started to fill her.

"Please," she practically begged, banging on the door, how could anyone be so horrible? "It's dark and I'm cold."

Still silence greeted her. Were they all just the other side of the door laughing at her whilst she was frightened? Was Chandler out there with them, smiling and amused at her terror? Would he do that to her? Her heart didn't want to believe he could be that cruel but after everything he'd done…

"Come on!" she pleaded, as dread rushed through her body at a sudden thought; how long would they leave her in here?

Did they really want her to quit so badly they'd leave her here until the shift ended or even until the morning staff opened up? She shivered, hating the thought. Desperate now, she started to frantically feel along the door edge, trying to find a way out on her own when her shoulder painfully banged against a shelf, something fell, hitting her and seconds later she was covered in something. The smell filling the cramped room told her it was marinara sauce.

"Please?" she shouted again, "Let me out?"

Suddenly the door opened.

Chandler.

He looked her over, looking thoroughly pissed as he helped her out.

"What's wrong with you idiots?" he demanded, turning from her to face his colleagues that had gathered. His voice was hard, almost dangerous and it surprised her. "How could you do that to her? To a woman? Trap her somewhere like that?"

Joey entered the kitchen, eyeing up the commotion as Chandler continued his rant.

"Are you proud of yourselves? Are you? Would you let anyone do that to your mom or sister or daughter? Seriously? This woman is a good person and a damn good chef and she doesn't deserve this," he gestured to her and the storeroom, "Doesn't deserve any of this crap! She may not want to stand up for herself but I will. Stop bullying her. Get over yourselves and grow up before she fires the lot of you."

A stunned silence settled over the room, people looking down at the ground, no one answering.

"Yeah!" Joey spoke up suddenly, stepping to stand beside Chandler. "I may not have worked here long but I like Chef Geller. She's a nice person and you're lucky to be working with her. I know she wrote some rubbish review but forget about that. She's a decent human being and you guys are out of line."

Monica didn't know what to do, blushing furiously as everyone shuffled their feet, waiting. It was her time to shine. She took a deep breath.

"T-thank you," she said to both of them before addressing the small crowd. "Right, I'm not taking it anymore. From now on it's my way or the high way. Anyone got a problem with that they can leave now. Anyone that stays better be prepared to work damn hard. The first person that even glares in my direction is getting fired. You hear?"

Silence.

"She asked a question," Chandler said quietly, his voice still laced with something edgy.

Quickly everyone nodded with various versions of, "Yes, Chef Geller."

"Good, now back to work. Go!"

Everyone scuttled off and Monica let out a shuddery breath. She couldn't believe that had just happened. Maybe this was finally the turning point she'd craved? But where did it leave her with Chandler? He'd lied, betrayed and tricked her… yet he'd been the one to rescue her from the chiller. He'd taken it upon himself to reprimand everybody. The man that didn't like confrontation had confronted them all in style, completely shocking her.

It made no sense, no sense at all. Had it been some kind of mistake? Had her initial instincts been right and he was one of the good guys? God, she hoped so but she'd seen what she'd seen and heard what she'd heard. Maybe he'd had a change of heart and backed down, feeling guilty for his actions?

Monica knitted her brow in deep thought as her eyes sought out the man at the center of the mystery but he had his back to her, already walking away and out of the kitchen. She sighed heavily as she stared after the swinging doors, her gut churning. She really needed to talk to him, to find out the truth.

"You ok?"

She forced her attention away from the doors and onto Joey, "Yeah," she lied, "thanks for that."

"It's Chandler you should be thanking," he commented, offering her a half-smile as his hand rubbed the shoulder that wasn't covered in sauce for a moment before he went back to work.

Monica tried to focus on cooking but it was difficult. Every time the door swung open she looked up hopefully but it was never Chandler. In fact she hadn't seen him since the incident.

Huwie walked in and she did a double take at the small nod he gave her. Maybe it really was working?

"Er, Huwie?"

"Yes, Chef Geller?" he answered immediately, seeming a little sheepish.

She frowned surprised, "Uh, have you seen Chandler?"

"Oh, he went home after…he said he wasn't feeling well. He must have whatever you had last night."

It felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. He'd left?

She swallowed, her heart sinking, "Oh, ok."

Monica had no time to dwell as a large table arrived. She tried to concentrate on her job but her mind kept wandering back to Chandler and the hurt she'd seen in his eyes. This time last night she'd been so sure he'd betrayed her…but now?

What the hell was going on?

* * *

People actually helped to clear up and wished her good night. It was strange. She couldn't enjoy it though or bask in the new friendly environment that she'd wanted for so long. Once she'd learnt he'd left, a knot had formed in her stomach, which had gradually tightened as the shift went on, twisting as an overwhelming sense of guilt had started to consume her. She must have made a mistake. Must have. She'd accused the one man that had shown her kindness in that hostile restaurant and thrown it back in his face. Found him guilty without a trial. She could still picture his confused hurt face, it was still haunting her and she felt awful.

"You ok?" Joey asked yet again as they walked quietly home.

For once he didn't have a date and Monica couldn't decide if it was genuine or if he just wanted to keep an eye on her. She appreciated it either way.

"Yeah," she lied again, her arms folded protectively across her chest, looking down at the concrete beneath her shoes. "Do you think he'll forgive me, Joey?"

"Sure," he didn't sound too convinced. "I mean I don't really know the guy but it was just a misunderstanding, right? He wouldn't have done what he did today if he hated you."

She nodded half-heartedly not believing his words.

"Plus," Joey hurriedly continued, sensing how miserable she still was, "it really worked; I was out back afterwards and heard them talking about it. They actually feel guilty about what they did to you. And the best thing is it happened without firing _me_. It means I can stay on until I get an acting job and get more money. The guy did good."

"Very good," she sighed, feeling even worse than she had before. Even after what she'd accused him of he'd still gone out of his way to help her. She wondered if she should go around there and see him now but what if he wasn't willing to talk to her. Her emotions were running high and she didn't think she could handle him slamming the door in her face tonight. Besides, he had left the restaurant early without talking to her. If he had wanted to see her tonight he would have stayed or at least met her after the shift, after he'd processed everything.

He hadn't. That had to mean something. Her gut clenched.

She stayed silent for the rest of the short walk home, ignoring Joey's worried looks as they made it up the stairs and into the safety of apartment 20. Ross, Phoebe and Rachel were all sitting around the table and she bit back a sigh. It was late, she'd had an exhausting day, emotionally draining and she really didn't feel like playing host.

Head down, she headed towards her room but Rachel moved quickly and blocked her path. She raised an eyebrow in a silent question, she wasn't in the mood for games.

"Mon," her voice was a little hesitant, "um, that Chandler guy came round. He, uh, wanted to bring over this," she held out a large envelope.

Monica's heart leapt, "What?" she asked stunned, her eyes widening as she tried to comprehend what she was saying. "He was here?"

Rachel nodded.

Why had he come here when he knew she was at the restaurant? Her heart started to beat that little bit faster as her gaze went from her curious roommate onto the envelope. She reached out with a slightly shaking hand, taking it from her. Swallowing hard, Monica walked over to the kitchen table, sitting down slowly. With a deep breath she carefully opened the envelope and removed the contents- a plastic folder with a small sheet of folded paper on the top.

She unfolded the paper first instantly recognizing Chandler's attempt at hand-writing:

 _Monica,_

 _I know it looks bad but I promise you it's not what you think. I haven't lied to you and I certainly haven't been helping those jerks. I really like you, you've already made it onto my favorite people list and I don't screw over people on that list. Trust me, I know how much it hurts to be stabbed in the back and I'd never do that to you._

 _'Shoo Chef' wasn't a plot against you…it was just for a script._

 _It sounds horrible now but it started before I got to know you. Their antics inspired me to write about it and create a whole new character and scenario with ideas for pranks that I thought would be funny on screen. It wasn't about bullying or the cruelty they put you through. It was just meant to entertain._

 _I'm sorry. It was stupid and insensitive and I should have ripped it up once I got to know you. Please know it was never intended to insult or hurt someone as incredible as you. I won't send it to LA. You can ditch it, destroy it completely, whatever, I just wanted you to see it first and see that I'm telling the truth._

 _If you wanna talk, I promise to tell you absolutely everything. I'll be waiting at the best private bar in town._

 _Chandler x_

Monica closed her eyes a moment, letting the words on the paper sink in as relief swept through her. It had been for a script? A damn script! He hadn't been plotting behind her back, laughing with the others as they carried out each horrible prank. He'd just been doing what was natural to him; writing.

All those conversations and kisses had been real. He was real, genuine and he still liked her. Thank God.

He cared enough to set her straight on the matter and said he was willing to explain about everything. Did that include his past life in LA? Would he finally open up to her about why he was so skittish? Her heart swelled as she beamed happily, picking up the folder and seeing the neatly typed script.

She skimmed a few pages, smiling at Chandler's writing. He was good. And he'd been telling the truth, the script was about a young hopeless guy whose dad owned a restaurant and made him head chef. He was clueless and washed lettuce with a bar of soap and spent ages looking for a bacon stretcher as the others laughed in the background. Whilst it was loosely based on her, he wasn't mocking her.

"Monica?"

She blinked back tears, suddenly remembering the others were all there, watching her intently and looked mightily confused.

"Sorry," she swallowed, still a little overwhelmed as she closed the script. "It was all a misunderstanding. He wasn't working with the others and he likes me. I, uh need to go and talk to him," she announced standing up quickly, tucking the script back into the envelope.

"Monica," Phoebe's voice stopped her, "there's something else you need to see before you go."

"What?" she asked only half paying attention, her mind still on Chandler and the impending conversation. He was waiting for her. They'd apologize to each other, laugh, talk about everything, she'd learn his secrets and they would kiss and…

"We, uh," Ross cleared his throat, "we found out a bit about his past."

She frowned confused at her older brother, shaking her head, "What do you mean?" she asked her voice taking an edge as she suddenly felt protective of him. They'd met him once and thought it was ok to start investigating him? "You've been digging up dirt on him? You've no right to-"

"No," Rachel immediately denied, defending them. "It's not like that. Look, when he came over here I thought he looked a little familiar and…" she gestured to Ross who opened his laptop, turning it to face her and hesitantly Monica came closer to it.

She stared at the screen and froze, recognizing Chandler's face instantly and she gasped.

* * *

A/N- sorry for the slight delay on this one and for leaving it on another cliff hanger. Thank you so so much for the reviews and I loved hearing all your theories! For the guest that asked about the title. It is the Madonna song as I wanted something with the word 'stranger' in and 'beautiful stranger' seemed to describe Chandler spot on, plus not all, but a few of the lines really seemed to fit this story.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N -Thank you for being patient with this one- there's always something about final chapters that make me rewrite them a zillion times! Final chapter? Yeah, sorry I forgot to warn you in the last chapter that this would be the final one (I know I mentioned it in the original A/N that it was only 6 chapters long but that seems ages ago now). So, I wanted to jump in now to ensure you don't get a horrible surprise when it gets to the (very short, blink and you miss it) epilogue!

* * *

Full of built-up nerves and anxiety, Monica stood outside the penthouse clutching the envelope in a death-grip as she tried to summon the courage to ring the doorbell. She could do this. She _had_ to do this. Chandler was waiting for her and he'd said he was willing to finally explain everything…so why was she still standing the wrong side of the door?

Taking a deep breath and telling herself to just get on with it, she reached out a trembling hand, a pointed-finger ready to press the bell when the door suddenly flew open and she had to jump out of the way or else collide with Mrs Bing.

"Monica!" Nora gasped, a hand going to her chest, which was barely contained by the low-cut dress she wore. "You frightened the life out of me, honey."

"Hi Mrs Bing, I'm uh, sorry for coming around so late but-"

"Nonsense dear and please call me Nora; I'm nobody's Mrs." Nora's eyes ran over her critically, "I'm actually extremely relieved to see you here, you have no idea."

"Really?" she asked confused, a frown crossing her face as she wondered just how much his mom knew about everything.

"Yes, but not as much as Chandler will be. His current mood is actually why I'm on my way out…but I'm sure that will drastically improve once he sees you."

"Oh," she blushed a little, hoping that was true.

"I tried to explain to him that in all my romance novels there is always some kind of misunderstanding between the hero and heroine. It makes it all the more sweeter when the couple finally come together and have that oh-so-wonderful and passionate first time...but he wouldn't listen to me. I don't think he was quite in the mood for my advice…not that he ever is"

"Oh." She blushed harder, fiddling with her handbag strap. "Um…"

Nora chuckled at her flushed face, reopening the front door for her, "Go. He's out brooding on the terrace." She shooed her in the general direction of her son, "Don't worry, I'll be gone until morning," she winked.

Monica widened her eyes in surprise before ducking her head and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Not quite sure how to respond, she finally settled with an, "Ok, thanks,"

The older woman chuckled again, "Good night, Monica and go gentle on him."

With that Nora walked away and taking a deep breath Monica entered the apartment, hesitantly closing the door behind her. Butterflies started to rise in her stomach, her hands hugging the envelope to her like a safety blanket as she weaved her way through the rooms, making it to the small bar area.

She paused in the doorway, watching as he poured himself a drink, his back to her.

"Got another one of those?" she asked.

Chandler spun round surprised, his mouth hanging open almost dropping the lit cigarette.

"Hey," he greeted once the initial shock had worn off, a cute nervous smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Hey," she repeated, running her eyes over him. He was still dressed in his waiter uniform, though the top button was undone and the dark red tie loosened but still knotted.

"You're actually here."

"Yeah, so it would seem," she offered him a quick somewhat nervous grin. "Can I, uh get that drink?"

"Oh right! Sure," he nodded quickly, "Um, Scotch?"

"I'd prefer red wine, if you have any?"

"Of course, what kind of establishment would this be without red wine?" he quipped taking a last puff on the cigarette before he stubbed it out in the already over-flowing ashtray. "Actually, it's one of my mom's favorite drinks so there's always plenty in stock and she doesn't like the cheap stuff so it should be good."

He easily poured her drink and walked over to her, handing her the wineglass. He didn't move away, he stayed standing close to her as his eyes held hers; probably trying to get a clue to how she'd taken everything.

"You wanna head outside?" he eventually suggested, gesturing towards the empty terrace.

"Sounds good," she agreed, following him out into the crisp night air.

She looked up into the dark sky, enjoying the slight breeze as he took the glass from her hand and placed them both down onto the table, before turning to face her. Slowly his blue eyes moved from hers and onto the envelope she was holding.

"You, uh got it then?"

"Yeah, I did," she nodded, holding it out to him. With a confused frown he cautiously took it, turning it over in his hands but not opening it. "It's a really good script Chandler, I think you should use it…send it to the tv people or whatever it is you do."

"Really?" he asked surprised, still frowning. "You're serious? I thought you'd be mad as hell at me?"

"It's funny," she stated simply. "You should be proud of it."

He stared at her another beat clearly in shock before swallowing and finally nodding, "Thank you," he placed it down on the table. His eyes then dropped to his shoes as he shuffled them slightly before looking up and meeting her gaze. "Look, even though you're not mad now, I'm still sorry, Monica. If I'd told you about it sooner or at least had the balls to show it to you then you wouldn't have gotten hurt by it."

It was her turn to swallow as she brought her arms up to hug herself, "That wasn't the only thing that hurt me," she confessed quietly.

He nodded, his eyes dropping guiltily back to the floor, "Right."

"I understand the script, Chandler and I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions about it, I really am, but I still don't understand what I heard in the breakroom. You admitted you were fake-dating me, laughed about breaking my heart with the others like it meant nothing to you…" she trailed off, lost, watching as he pulled a pained face.

"I didn't know you were there," he started and she raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. He sighed, shaking his head and running a hand through his already mussed hair, frustrated, "I-I didn't mean it like that, urgh," he growled clearly irritated at himself.

She waited, allowing him time to find his feet. She really wanted to understand.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, a little calmer. "It…this…it means something to me- you have to believe that? The breakroom thing was just _them_. See, those guys, they say all kinds of crap; it's constant. I try to spend as little time as possible with them as they don't know where to draw the line about anything. Even before you started working there they were a huge pain in the ass, completely full of themselves, snag why I used to prefer spending my break alone on that step with my notebook."

She nodded in understanding but motioned for him to continue.

He sighed, "I'm so used to their constant BS that I guess I just block it out when I can. I try not to let it get to me but when they say things about you it makes my blood boil to the point where I just wanna punch them or something but I knew I couldn't react otherwise I'd ruin everything."

"The whole team Monica thing?" she offered him lightly.

"Yeah," a soft smile touched his lips before he went serious again, "one of them saw us together the other night. They kept asking questions and trying to wind me up by saying all sorts of crap. One of them guessed I was doing it all as some sort of elaborate plot," he admitted rolling his eyes, "and to try and shut them up, I went along with it. I thought it was the safest option but I didn't like it Monica but I thought it would be the best thing to do but again I'm sorry. See, I didn't tell you about it because I didn't want you to get upset over it and yet I still managed to screw up anyway."

His eyes met hers pleading for her to believe him, full of pain and regret.

"I didn't want to believe it," she promised, reaching forwards to lightly stroke his arm, needing to comfort him, "I tried my hardest but when I heard you, I guess it was too much. I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance to explain."

He shook his head, "That's ok, really. I would have done the same in your position, or probably worse," he grinned slightly, the mood lightening. "I guess I should be appreciative that you didn't throw water over my face or cut my tie in half or something."

"Why would I cut your tie in half?" she asked slightly amused as she stepped closer, running the said red silk through her fingers.

"You know," he shrugged a little self-consciously, his eyes intently watching her fingers, "you hear things. A woman scorned and all that."

She caught a glimpse of that cheeky sparkle back in his eyes and she found herself smiling, loving the playful banter they shared. It always seemed so natural between them.

"Believe me, a scorned woman would cut off something a lot more valuable than your tie," she laughed as he winced, his hands coming to rub her shoulders briefly.

"Ouch," he shuddered, "Remind me to never piss you off again."

Monica nodded enjoying being so close to him, standing in his embrace, her hands still on his chest. The moonlight was illuminating him, making his eyes intense and she allowed herself to get lost in them, basking in the warmth that this had all been real.

She saw him lean forwards and unable to resist, caught up in the same spell she leaned forwards, meeting his lips. How could she have ever thought their kisses had been faked? You couldn't fake this spark, this chemistry between them. But as much as she was enjoying the sensations there was an insistent voice at the back of her head warning her their talk wasn't finished.

Breaking away, Monica offered him an apologetic smile as she smoothed her hair down and took a step back; physical distance helping to clear her head of the not-so innocent thoughts kissing him had started to create.

"We, uh still need to talk about other stuff," she said somewhat awkwardly, watching him intently as he grimaced, his eyes dropping to the floor, the spell well and truly broken.

"Yeah," he reluctantly agreed, "we do."

He didn't expand.

She took a step towards him, placing a hand on his arm, waiting for him to meet her eyes, "It's all because of Kathy isn't it?"

Chandler visibly blanched, clearly shocked, "Wh-? How? Are you running some kind of PI gig alongside that cleaning business?"

"No," she chuckled, rubbing his arm. "Rachel, she uh recognized you when you came over earlier."

"She recognized me?" he asked his eyebrows almost hitting his hairline in surprise. "Seriously? I never get recognized. Not even in LA, well," he pulled a face, "not until afterwards."

"Rach likes her tabloids and celeb gossip a little too much," Monica grimaced as she shrugged an apologetic shoulder.

"Yeah, she must be really _really_ dedicated," he muttered.

She nodded, studying him a moment. He seemed to be struggling, his mind whirling and in understanding she squeezed his arm before letting go. Deciding she'd let him have a moment to collect his thoughts, she walked over to the edge of the roof, leaning her arms on the wall as she took in the views of the city at night. It really was magnificent up here.

After a short while she heard his footsteps and moments later he came to stand beside her, mirroring her pose as he leaned his arms against the brick. Together they stared in silence at hundreds of lights around them, from buildings, cars, bars and cabs - proof that NY truly never slept.

"It's because of Kathy," he confessed softly, his gaze focused in front of him.

"She's why you're so...skittish…about us?"

"Yep, pretty much."

"Not that tabloid gossip isn't a great source of information but wanna give me the real story?" she pried gently, not wanting to spook or upset him but desperately wanting some answers. "I mean how did you even meet someone that famous?"

Chandler snorted, his attention still on the darkness, finding it easier to confess his soul to the night sky.

"She, uh wasn't famous when we met," he sighed. "We were both working for the same show…me a newbie writer and her a newbie actress."

"Must have been a while ago?" she prompted.

She didn't know much about Kathy, she wasn't particularly big on celebrities but you couldn't miss just how big Kathy had become. She was everywhere.

"Yeah, about 4 years ago," he admitted. "When she got famous it happened real quick."

Monica nodded, unsure if Chandler would even notice.

"You weren't prepared for it?" she tried.

He shrugged, pulling a face, "I don't think anyone can prepare for what it's really like. It's not all glamour and fast cars like they make out…but we were doing ok."

His eyes held a distant look as Monica turned her head a fraction to study him.

"So, what happened?"

"Nothing that hasn't happened to a zillion other people," he sighed heavily. "I just, as clichéd as it sounds, I didn't see it coming. We both worked long hours and she did a lot of travelling, especially when she became really big but it was LA," he shrugged, "Everyone in the industry worked stupidly long hours. And when she was at home the paparazzi would camp out on the doorstep anyhow and follow us places."

"Yeah?" She couldn't imagine that. Didn't want to.

"Yeah, they loved her but not me- I was too ordinary, the relationship too boring for their tastes," he snorted at the irony. "She would be full color on the magazine covers and I'd be the one cropped out of the small photo on page 10, rarely mentioned….which suited us both fine. She liked attention and I really didn't, which I guess is a no brainer given that she's an actress," he pulled a face at the word in disgust and she remembered his reaction when she'd first told him of Joey's profession. It was starting to make sense.

"It got harder, though. She started having a very different lifestyle. She was out partying a lot with a new circle of friends but we'd been together almost 4 years," he shrugged, swallowing. "She started to change, became more distant, missing a lot of my calls and stuff but we were happy and successful…at least I thought we were," he trailed off a moment.

Monica turned fully towards him, reaching out a hand, "You don't have to tell me."

"Yeah I do," he muttered, turning to face her and taking her offered hand, linking their fingers together. "It's not a big deal, well it shouldn't be. It happens to people every day, just with less glamour." He took a deep breath as he became lost in his memories, "Some intern on set was a huge fan of hers, I doubt he even knew who I was to be honest. He was waving around some magazine article saying that Kathy had been cheating on her long-term boyfriend…me.

"I ignored it, there's always that kinda story going around. You miss one red carpet or go out separately and it's all over according to them- they just want a juicy story. I mean we'd been together almost 4 years, so I dismissed it easily. But then one of my friends asked about it and showed me the article. When I saw it I just…I just knew this one was different. My gut instinct told me that the photos weren't photoshopped. They were too intimate.

"I left the set early to talk to her and got home to find…" he closed his eyes, using one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and she squeezed his other. "She was in bed with him, this director guy we both knew. He'd even bought me a drink the week before when we were out," he swallowed and her thumb stroked the back of his hand in support. "She'd been seeing him for a few months apparently."

"That's horrible," Monica shook her head in disbelief. "She really hurt you didn't she," it was said more as a quiet statement than a question.

He nodded, "She broke my heart. I just didn't think she'd ever do that to me, though I guess no one ever does," he trailed off with a heavy sigh. "I'm over her Monica, and the relationship, I really am, but I'm still not over what she actually did, I guess. You could say that I have a few trust issues right now…and sorry, you're not a shrink," he shook his head at himself, a little embarrassed.

"Please, the amount of crap I unloaded on you on that fire escape," she smiled trying to lighten the mood. It worked he smiled back at her a little. "And believe it or not I want to know about this stuff, about your past. It's important, you've been this big mystery to me."

He chuckled in disbelief, "Believe me, there's nothing interesting enough about me to make me a mystery. I left LA because I needed to get away from it all. Get away from the press, get away from seeing her face on every billboard or worse, bumping into the two of them at some bar." He shuddered, "That wasn't pretty actually, luckily I got kicked out before too much happened."

Monica gave him a sympathetic smile, unable to understand how anyone could cheat on this man. How anyone could hurt him so much and not realize what they were giving up? She hadn't known him long but knew he was a gem worth holding onto.

"I came here and settled back into the real world. New York has so much hustle and bustle, it's just so different, so normal and other than the odd movie trailer with her in, I can move on and forget her.

"I wasn't intending to get into another relationship for a long time, I'd sworn off them, boycotted them even…but then I met you," he met her eyes offering her a shy little smile as he took her other hand, "I didn't expect to meet someone like you, you kinda ruined my plans," he said quietly. "I especially didn't expect to meet someone like you at the damn restaurant of all places," he smiled, "And I've gotta admit Monica, this _thing_ this _connection_ between us…pretty much scares the bejesus outta me."

She swallowed at the doubt in his voice but decided to grab hold of the positives. He wanted to be with her, he felt this thing between them too.

"I understand," she promised him with a watery smile, "I feel exactly the same way; there's just something about you Chandler that I can't ignore. I'm more than willing to be patient and take things slow, see where they go."

He let out a breath, a large smile spreading across his face as he shook his head in awe, "You get more amazing every moment I spend with you, you know that?"

She didn't get a chance to reply as his lips crashed down on hers. She sunk into it, reveling in the feelings shooting through her. When the kiss ended, he kept his arms around her, hugging her and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"You still warm enough?" he asked gently and she nodded too content to move. Too excited by everything that was happening.

She felt his smile in her hair as he tightened his hold on her.

"Thank you for being so understanding about everything," he murmured. "I want this, to get to know you and date you...but just be pre-warned that I'll probably freak out at some point. It's kinda something I do."

"Noted," she grinned, too happy to care right now. She was pretty confident that they could deal with anything that was thrown at them.

She placed a quick kiss on his lips before turning in his arms. Resting her back against his front, his arms around her waist, she went back to gazing at the sky. She tried to spot some stars as she enjoyed the warmth of his body and the feeling of being held in his arms. He kissed the top of her head and she relaxed even further.

"I can't believe we've talked about my ex before we've even been on a date," he complained but there was something light in his tone. Like he was pleased it was all out in the open.

"We can talk about my ex if you like? My last boyfriend was a little famous too, nothing like Kathy famous but I dated Pete Becker. You heard of him?"

"The computer guy?"

"That's him," she nodded.

"So both our exes are famous millionaires," he mused. "What exactly does that make us?"

"Damn lucky," she grinned, turning in his arms and seeing his eyes were sparkling happily, an adorable goofy grin on his face. "We should actually be thanking them."

"How so?"

"Well," she shrugged casually, "If Kathy hadn't left you heart-broken you'd still be in LA and never stepped foot in that restaurant. I only left the diner because Pete bought this restaurant for me and then we broke up, so I had to find somewhere else..."

"Wait, he bought you a restaurant? Boy, have I got competition," he joked.

She laughed happily, "No competition," she promised. "But, see if they hadn't been so stupid to realize what they were letting go, we'd never have been at Alessandro's and our paths would have never crossed."

"So, you're saying it's kinda like fate?" he murmured.

"Kinda," she agreed.

"I like that," he promised, leaning forwards and their lips met.

Closing her eyes she caressed his lips, deepening the kiss as she enjoyed being like this with him. Boy, the man sure knew how to kiss.

Eventually needing air, they broke apart and he smiled tenderly at her, causing her heart to do a little flip as his hand gently tucked a loose strand of her behind her ear. His fingers took the opportunity to lightly skim across her cheek.

"I'm glad you came over tonight," he whispered hoarsely, his voice dropping, "I'm so glad I haven't screwed this up already."

She couldn't stop the large smile spreading across her face, "I'm very glad I'm here too," she admitted, "and I can't tell you how happy I am that I was wrong about everything- and normally I'd never admit to that so you won't be hearing that again anytime soon."

"I can live with that," he smiled, untangling from her and taking hold of her hand.

He led her over to the table to their drinks. Monica took her first sip and he hadn't lied- it was _nice_ wine which she suspected was _very_ expensive. She shivered as an unexpected breeze ruffled her hair.

"You are cold," he stated and she shook her head in denial, really not wanting to go inside yet.

"I'm fine," she dismissed, she was a little chilly be she wasn't going to miss this opportunity.

He studied her a moment with narrowed eyes then nodded, "Wait here," and disappeared back into the apartment.

Moments later he reappeared with armfuls of blankets and cushions, setting them up on the outdoor couch.

"I know you aren't cold but…," he teased and she moved over straight away and taking the hint he lifted the blankets so they could sit down before pulling it over them.

"Mmm, perfect," she approved, before eyeing up what was on the arm of the couch. "What's the remote for?"

"Oh," he picked it up, "it does the lights and stuff," he trailed off amused as Monica took it from him, playing with it. "Careful the neighbors will think you're trying some SOS Morse code and that I'm keeping you here against your will."

Monica chuckled, snuggling into him a little, a thrill going through her when his arm settled over her shoulders. She took another sip of the wine as she studied the remote and hit another button; seconds later some soft jazz started to play through the surround speakers. She looked at him, "Smooth."

He cringed apologetically, "Ye-ah. My mom is big on her romance."

Chandler motioned for the remote back in order to turn it off but she shook her head, "I like it," she confessed.

"Really?"

"Sure, music, wine, blankets, moonlight, gorgeous hot waiter…what's not to like?"

He laughed surprised before tightening his arm around her and kissing the top of her head, "I live to please."

She smiled, closing her eyes as she listened to the music, enjoying being in Chandler's arms. He rested his chin against her hair and her smile grew.

"I never thanked you," she said quietly and she felt him lift his head as his confused gaze settled on her.

"For what?"

"For standing up for me at the restaurant earlier."

"Oh," he shifted slightly, "I lost it, I'm sorry. I was just so fed up with it all and I was mad at them for making you mad at me and enough was enough…I guess I found the boiling point of brain. I didn't embarrass you did I? Were they ok when I left?"

"You didn't embarrass me, Chandler," she reassured him quickly, placing a hand on his knee. "It was the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me." He blushed a little. "It was very romantic and it seems to have worked. Tonight everyone was suddenly being nicer to me and listening to me…it was strange…but in a good way."

"Really? Awesome."

"Yeah, I don't wanna jinx it but I think we may have turned a corner and all because of you," she moved slightly, looking up at him, "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," he said softly, meeting her eyes, his thumb stroking her hair gently. "You shouldn't have ever been put in that position. I meant what I said before you're a great person, amazing and you're definitely, hands down, one of my favorite people already."

"Backatcha," she chuckled, snuggling further into his warm embrace.

This time yesterday she was crying herself to sleep, thinking she'd lost this man. Thinking that everything had been a lie and she'd never get a chance to learn more about him. Yet here she was 24 hours later, in his arms under the stars with the biggest of their secrets out in the open. Sure there'd be a lot more to discover about each other along the way but she was looking forward to it.

A companionable silence settled over them as they listened to the gentle jazz that drifted through the air, over the distant sounds of Manhattan.

"It's getting late," she murmured quietly.

"Oh," he sighed disappointed. "Want me to walk you home?"

"No." Chandler turned to her, an eyebrow raised when she didn't expand her answer. "I don't wanna go," she finally admitted.

His features softened and he pecked the top of her head, "Wanna stay here the night?" he asked softly.

She smiled widely, "I don't usually sleep with a guy on the first date…let alone _before_ the first date."

"I didn't mean-" he stuttered before he caught onto her teasing smile, "You are mean! I just meant you could stay and I'll take the couch…unless of course you wanted to, you know?"

"Are you sure?" she frowned, "After what you said I didn't think you wanted to rush this."

He grinned, "I won't deny I'm not a little screwed up and a little commitment-phobic right now but there's just…you're just…you're incredible Monica, you're beautiful and I wanna be with you, get to know everything about you. Whether it's tonight or several months down the line, I'm never gonna regret spending the night with you."

She swallowed as she let his words sink in, "Then maybe I should make an exception to my rule?"

"Maybe," he agreed trying to sound casual but failing.

Monica stared into his gorgeous blue eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity and honesty. Shifting, she moved to face him, freeing her hands in order to frame his beautiful face. Keeping the intense eye contact for a moment longer, she pulled him towards her for a passionate kiss.

She didn't know if tonight was going to be the night they did _that_ and part of her didn't care. She just wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. To get closer to him, to bond and have the opportunity to discover everything she could about this man.

He'd come into her life as a stranger just when she'd needed him. He was truly beautiful inside and out, offering her his endless support and constant smiles to get her through a tough time in her life.

She was glad she'd met and gotten to know this beautiful stranger.

* * *

Epilogue - _Almost 4 years Later_

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"Hey!" Monica called as she rushed into apartment 20. "Am I late? Did I miss it?"

A collective "No!" came from the couch area where everyone was gathered and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Nah, you're fine," Chandler promised as he got up from the over-stuffed chair to greet her. He helped her with her coat and bag offering her a quick kiss, "It's still commercials."

Monica smiled at him pulling him down for another, deeper kiss, her arms going around his neck as his easily wrapped around her waist. It was all so natural for them now to be like this.

"Would you guys quit it?" Joey complained from the couch, "You're going to miss it!"

"It's like having a child sometimes," Chandler muttered against her lips and she couldn't help but chuckle in agreement. Over the last few years Chandler had become close to all the friends, fitting well into the group but with Joey they had become almost like brothers. It was sweet.

"It's our apartment," Monica protested good-naturedly as reluctantly they pulled apart and she took her fiancé's hand and dragged him over to the chair.

She settled in beside him, half on top of him and half on the chair as his arms went around her automatically. He smiled down at her and again she thanked whoever was up there that he had come into her life.

"Boooo!" Ross, Joey and Rachel suddenly hissed.

"Devil whore!" Phoebe shouted causing Monica to chuckle.

Glancing at the screen she saw what she'd expected, Kathy's latest movie trailer. She loved how the others had taken him into the fold. Anytime there was a trailer, advert or magazine with Kathy on, the others would boycott it or protest loudly; hurt one of them and you hurt them all.

"So," Chandler drew her attention back to him, "how was your day?"

"Sssh!" Phoebe told them off, "It's starting!"

Chandler rolled his eyes and Monica couldn't help but smile, squeezing him a little in sympathy.

"Why do I have to be quiet?" he whispered to her, "I wrote it – I know what happens."

Her smile grew until she was positively beaming, reaching up and placing a chaste kiss against his lips.

"My day was good actually, we received feedback from this critic guy who gave us 4.5 stars."

"You missed out on half a star? How dare he!" he teased, knowing her love of perfection.

"He said the restaurant was missing a certain gorgeous waiter and his delicious butt cheeks."

"Oh really," he chuckled happily, "Well, you can tell him that me and my delicious butt cheeks do not miss the waitering-life, just the eye-candy head chef."

She laughed, whacking him as Rachel shushed them, gesturing towards the screen. They all started cheering as the words "Shoo Chef" appeared with a picture of Joey's confused face.

"This is so neat!" Ross exclaimed.

"I know! It's so cool I'm starring in something Chandler wrote," Joey said excitedly.

"Yeah, a hopeless, clueless Italian who can't cook- you're a natural at it," Chandler grinned as Monica poked him hard in the side. Luckily Joey didn't pick up on the sarcasm.

Chandler had decided to hold onto that script from a few years ago, the one that had caused all the trouble. He'd thought it was something special, something that had more potential than just a quick sketch on a tv show. He'd kept working on it here and there, never forgetting it but never finding the right outlet.

Then, out of the blue on some cheap film set with Joey, he'd run into an old buddy that had moved to New York. They got talking and he'd pitched his Shoo chef idea. The guy liked it, they worked on it, pitched it and got the right people and networks on their side. They'd managed to get a pilot and a series and the icing on the cake was that he'd recommended Joey for the part and he'd been chosen.

"This is really funny," Rachel commented, sounding surprised.

"Thanks," Chandler deadpanned, "Let's just hope 4 million other people think the same."

"Who cares about ratings?" Monica reassured, "We like it."

"You've never worked in television before have you babe?" Chandler smiled fondly, kissing the top of her head, "And for that I'm very grateful."

She smiled, snuggling further into his warm embrace. As her friends' laughter filled the background, she couldn't stop the large grin spreading across her face.

"What?" he whispered in her hair.

"Just happy," she promised, meeting his dancing eyes, "Very happy."

"Good, I live to please."

It was weird to finally see this particular script come to life. It brought back so many memories of the time they had first met, which now seemed a lifetime ago. She'd first read the script in this very apartment and now they were all sitting around happily watching it together. The script that had caused them to fall out and almost ruined the chances of this, of them, ever happening was now causing them all to laugh and be together.

"I love you," he murmured into her hair and she couldn't remember ever being happier.

"I love you, too," she vowed, treasuring this moment in time.

The End

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A/N- thank you all so so much for reading this and for your reviews and comments. Such a great motivation and I really appreciate the support. I hope you enjoyed this story and just to warn you I have lots more stories and projects I'm working on to so watch this space :o)


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